Take Back What's Yours
by AyYouFiction
Summary: Now that the wars have ended, what can help Gendry move beyond his scars and look to his future? Gendry/OC, Gendry/Arya.
1. A Bargain Struck

_This story starts in the Game of Thrones universe with Gendry being sold to Melisandre with a few other GoT elements as well, but the rest of it is ASOIAF and my imagination to fill in the future. I own nothing of these worlds, just playing around with what-ifs within them. I hope you enjoy._

* * *

There were times when Gendry wondered what would become of his life, but this was not one of those times. In fact, he relished just how directionless his life was at the moment, finally, mercifully without some immediate danger hanging about his neck like shackles.

Staring at the bottom of his second cup of ale, his biggest worry was whether or not to have it refilled while he barely listened to the prattling of his friend across the table from him. Thonas. The man was as unkempt as just about anyone else in Flea Bottom, but his mood was as light and jovial and without a care in the world as a noble.

"…and so when I hear'm, I grab my boots and jump out the window—," Thonas interrupted his own joke as his eyes squeezed shut, and he thumped his cup on the table, amused by his words so much that he couldn't even force out the sound. After a cough and full breath, he continued, "By the time her man got to the room, I was already down the road, in the brothel!"

Now doubled over, one hand pressed to his knee for balance while the other held his stomach, Thonas laughed until tears worked their way out of his eyes.

Perhaps the joke would have been funny if shared with someone else, but Gendry couldn't allow himself to think of what men and women do with their bodies. Every time he did, the red witch would conjure herself in his mind, forcing him to relive the emotions he felt that night in their precise order: passion, confusion, fear, shame, pain, despair. Despair was always the one that lingered the longest, never really going away.

"Seven Hells, you're a sad sight," Thonas proclaimed as he rested his chin on his hand, his elbow teetering precariously on the table. Gendry ignored him and tried to pry that last drop of ale from his cup.

Thonas was loud, and Thonas was often obnoxious, but Thonas was also what Gendry could truly call a friend. A rarity in his life. The truth of it was that he hadn't had one of those since…

"You know what you need?" Thonas's firm, loud voice and his free hand slapping down flat to the table was enough to cut the thought from his mind. All other thoughts froze as dread crept up from Gendry's chest to his throat, from his throat to his mouth, until he tasted the bile of what might come out of his companion's mouth next.

"You need a thorough bedding. You need someone to fuck the whore out of your head."

Gendry rolled his eyes. He couldn't even think about the act. How could he manage doing it?

The man pushed himself from the table and leaned back on his bench as he raised his arms up and wide. "I'm sure there's an accommodating serving wench around here that can help you with your…problem." Thonas motioned toward a woman with a red halo of hair framing her face. "How about that one?"

The woman's red hair, even though it was nothing like the sleek red of Melissandre's, made Gendry wince as his balls cowered nearer his stomach.

"Alright then." Thonas seemed to read an expression on Gendry's face that Gendry wasn't even aware he'd had. In seconds, Thonas already moved on, eying the black haired woman across the large, crowded room. "How about that one?" Gendry's brows furrowed while he thought about his own coloring and circumstances. Could this be one of his half-siblings? Another that somehow survived the Westeros-wide massacre?

"Hmm," Thonas rubbed his stubbly chin as though coming to the same conclusion at the same time. He turned his gaze toward a wisp of a woman quietly filling pitchers at edge of the room. She was the smallest among the women there, and a darker color close to her scalp peeked through her blond hair, undoubtedly a false color thanks to a wood ash lye rinse. "I've been eying that one for myself tonight, but seeing as how it's for a good cause. How about her?"

The woman turned her head in their direction and appraised them both. In the dim light of where she stood, Gendry couldn't make out any specific features of her face, but it didn't matter. It was enough light to see her brows furrowed deeply and her mouth all but sneered, and it told him all he needed to know: she was not interested in the slightest.

Gendry's head turned away quickly, his eyes looking in all directions other than hers. He cursed himself for even looking at her in the first place. Was he truly considering this?

Thonas dropped back into his previous position: his head perched on his hand, his elbow balancing on the table with a drunken wobble. And for good measure, he sighed just to let Gendry know how frustrated he was with him.

"That one?" Thonas lazily pointed to a brown haired girl, could barely be considered a woman grown. The man's interest in the game was obviously waning.

Gendry felt badly for his friend, he truly did. The man was trying to help, but there was nothing anyone could do. Women were once a mystery to Gendry; a mystery he felt would reveal itself in due time. But after the red priestess, all women morphed into some aspect of her, no longer a mystery but a trap, instruments of fear and pain and…despair.

Barely interested in his own endeavor, now, Thonas once more pointed to another woman in the inn. Her hair was the same brown as the girl, but was as sleek and shiny as the silk he'd seen nobles wear. Also, unlike any of the others, she had soft, welcoming eyes when he glanced her way. There was no hint of the cold, hard stare of the red witch.

"Ah hah!" Thonas sat up and thumped his fist on the table, causing Gendry to jump. "Finally found one!" Thonas wasted no time as he emptied his cup with one gulp and lifted it in the air, his other hand pointed to the woman with silky brown hair, then pointed to his now empty cup.

She made her way over to their table with a pitcher and glanced from Thonas to Gendry and back with a friendly smile. "Need more ale?"

"Aye," Thonas answered. "I'm Thonas, and this is my friend—" The man stopped mid sentence when Gendry shot him a cautious look. Thonas knew fully that his name was never to be used in the open, ever. "Friend."

One eyebrow rose higher than the other before she began filling their cups. "Kasil. It's nice to meet you, Thonas," she said in Thonas's direction, the smile she wore never faltering, then turned her attention to Gendry, "and you, Friend."

Gendry felt heat shoot throughout his entire body, and his palms began to sweat. He hadn't felt like this since the red witch, and usually that was enough to sober him and bring his body to heel. Not this time. His eyes focused on her chest, noticing how perfectly full and womanly it was, not spilling out of her bodice like the red-head, or quietly tucked away and unassuming like the other brown-haired girl. The curve of her hips were pronounced but not exaggerated, and his mind wandered, wondering how all of those shapes fit together without clothes.

In the blink of an eye, heat rushed to his face and his cock, although far more to the latter. The heat rushing through is body must have caused him to noticeably blush, and that was enough of a sign for Thonas, who pounded his fist on the table with a very self-satisfied smile, startling the two around him. Gendry jumped in his chair, suddenly aware of just how much of his concentration was on this woman. The woman's head snapped toward Thonas, giving him a questioning look, but he waved the incident away.

"Your speech, you're not from around here." Thonas didn't say it directly, but the question was there. Judging from her accent, she was not Westerosi.

"No," she said and slammed the pitcher on the table, ale sloshing over the sides. "I come from Braavos."

And she had every right to be defensive. People in Westeros could barely trust their own countrymen, but when it came to those outside of Westeros, you could add scorn and contempt on top of mistrust.

"Hmm." Thonas sounded so content as he leaned toward the woman from his bench. "Sounds like you have a good tale to tell. What say you sit here and tell us this story of yours."

The anger and resentment in her eyes vanished, and in its place was something else Gendry couldn't quite place. When her eyes darted toward the inn's owner, Thonas patted the area of the bench next to him and soothed her worry. "Oh, don't worry about Newford. He's an old friend and wouldn't dare mind one of his women entertaining me for a few moments."

There was definitely some hesitation as she slid onto the bench beside Thonas, but when her eyes glanced in her employer's direction once more, Newford eyed her and answered her questioning stare with a nod of approval. "See there! Old friends I tell you!" Thonas confirmed. "So, now, about your story."

Kasil licked her lips that had gone dry from her nervousness, and Gendry felt his cock pulse to life.

"It's not a story that would even interest a child. I'd come here for work and hoped to save enough for my mother's passage here. But a month ago I received word that she has fallen ill…" A tear welled in her eye, and she wiped it before it could wrestle its way free. "And so I must leave for Braavos."

"You hear that, Friend?" Thonas leaned back and rubbed the woman's arm in what was meant to be soothing circles, but she recoiled from his touch. It was a slight reaction, barely noticeable, but enough to stop him from continuing. "This poor woman has need of quick coin. Whatever can she do for it?"

Gendry's brows raised at that. Even though he shouldn't have been surprised in the least, it was the next words the man uttered, as brazen as they were, that caused Gendry to close his eyes and pretend that he was not sitting at the same table with this man and embarrassed in front of this woman.

"Well, Friend here has a need and has coin. You have what he needs, and he has what you need. I say a bargain can be struck!"

The woman's gaze rested in Gendry's direction for confirmation, something he was only vaguely aware of since he could barely look at either of them for very different reasons. Thonas had gone too far this time. And to make matters worse, there was a witness to his humiliation. The last time he'd been humiliated with witnesses was when the red witch…

"What say you, Friend?" Thonas was also unrelenting.

There was a heartbeat when Gendry's temper almost caused him to tell his "friend" to slowly wander blind-folded through the seven hells, but a hand, calloused by hard word and a hard life, covered his. It was a simple gesture, and if any other woman had dared to be so bold, he would have balked. Instead, it inflamed his senses. He was suddenly very aware of everything around them: the earthy scent of mud-caked boots, the sour smell of spilled ale, the sticky floorboards all around them. There were men laughing with the odd ringing of a woman's voice among them. The red-head. He was also very aware of the warmth of her hand on his, the steadiness of her gaze, the blush starting from her cheeks and spreading to her neck, and then her bosom.

In his own body, his heart beat inside his chest like the drums the nobles used for their not-so-noble celebrations. In his fingertips and toes, he could feel his pulse. His body responded to her in other ways as well.

"I'm willing if you are, Friend," she said to him, her voice soft and barely heard. There was only one thing to do under the circumstances. Gendry nodded his consent and rose from his bench, starting in the direction of his room. He couldn't see her, he couldn't hear her in the din of drunken people, but he knew she followed him.

What he _could_ hear was the whooping of his so called friend and what sounded like "thorough bedding."


	2. The Defining Moment

_This is heavy duty M people. _

* * *

The floorboard creaked as Gendry shifted his weight. His feet felt like anvils, but that was nothing compared to the weight he felt along his shoulders. Kasil waited quietly behind him as he fished the key out of his pocket, fumbling before he could get key and lock lined up. To achieve the telltale click proved even more difficult with shaky hands, but he managed to open the door, eventually.

She'd walked past him, smelling of the sour, earthy ale she'd been serving, and he followed her while facing the door as he closed it behind them. Without the least shred of his dignity left, he couldn't bear to look in her direction. Sighing, eyes closed, and brow leaning against the cool pine door, he told her, "I'll give you the coin you need without…" He couldn't bear to say the rest so he just let his words trail off.

Behind him, he heard the floor creak softly under her and the rustling of her dress along it. "I don't need the coin," he heard her say from the other side of the room. "I have enough. I just wished to share your bed."

Gendry's head snapped in her direction, dumbfounded by what he'd just heard. What he saw surprised him even more. Kasil was already stripped down to nothing but a gauzy shift, her outer clothes pooled in layers at her feet. "If your friend believed I would share your bed without trade for something, he might have insisted I extend the same courtesy to him. This way, I could have simply told him I have enough and do not need what he has to offer." Her gaze rose to meet his as she slipped the material off of her shoulders and the last of her coverings cascaded down to the floor with the layers of her dress.

There was something lodged in his throat, or at least it felt that way. And his blood coursed through is body, all leading to one place that pulsed to life, full and proud. He hadn't been this ready for a woman since…

Gendry shook his head clear, and then once again made eye contact with the woman that offered herself to him freely. In her eyes, he didn't see the red witch. In her eyes, he didn't see himself reflected as some lowborn in a game he couldn't understand. What he did see was need, desire…for him.

When her shift was nothing more than a pile of roughspun on the floorboards and her body was bare to him, for him, he realized that he could do this; he could lay with her.

Before he could convince himself otherwise, Gendry crossed the room and trapped her face in his hands. He wanted this. For the first time in five years, he wanted this and didn't have the red woman haunting his mind or his cock. Without a second thought, he pressed his lips to hers and willed her to open herself to him. Not that her lips alone weren't wondrous against his, but he wanted to taste her, so eager to taste her.

With a whimper, her body weakened in his arms and her soft, warm lips parted for his tongue to enter. So warm. Her arms slipped around his neck, and he felt the moan in her mouth as he pulled her closer, tasted her fully. She was naked against his body, but he was fully clothed, and Gendry wanted to feel the warmth of her everywhere.

As much as it pained him to relinquish her mouth, he gently pulled away from her just long enough to strip down to nothing faster than he'd ever remember doing in his life. When he looked up, Kasil's eyes were wide and focused on his manhood. Suddenly, she seemed unsure, perhaps even reconsidering her decision.

But this was his salvation, this was his moment to reclaim his mind and body from the red witch, and before either one of them could allow their fears to destroy this moment, Gendry pulled her naked body to his and dipped down to resume the kiss he was so reluctant to withdraw from in the first place.

If there was doubt blooming within her, it withered and died quickly as she sighed into his kiss and yielded her body to his, her arms slipping around his neck for support. This time, he could feel the warmth of her skin all over. He could feel the crush of her breasts against him, the feel of the soft patch of hair between her legs tickle his thigh, and his erection between them making itself very acquainted with her.

Kasil shifted her weight to the balls of her feet, stretching herself to come closer to his height, and Gendry helped her by reaching for her thighs and lifted her. In response, her arms tightened around his neck and her legs wrapped around his hips. With his need as great as it was, he considered for a moment shifting their bodies just enough to where he could enter her where they stood, but he didn't have enough confidence to follow through. This was, after all, only his second time with a woman. It was almost like his first time, because sometimes, he didn't consider the red witch a woman at all.

With her wrapped around him, her mouth firmly on his, their tongues dancing and dueling alternately, he tentatively knelt on the bed and felt the straw stuffing gather and crunch under his knee. He could have afforded a feather bed as much as Davos had given him, tucked away in the bag of bread. But that's what nobles slept on, and he wanted no part of it. Strangely, this one night he wished he had that featherbed. Something luxurious and soft for both of them on such a monumental occasion.

Gendry leaned forward, Kasil holding on to him until her back reached the bed then released him from her embrace. He took the moment to look at her, appreciate her, appreciate this moment. He started from her feet and ankles, his hands on both to feel the soft skin as he worked his way up her strong calves and thighs, their firm, tight muscles acquired from standing and working in the inn. As his hands worked their way up her legs, she shivered as though cold, but he knew from the heat of her skin that it had nothing to do with the temperature.

The juncture of her thighs was covered in a dark patch of soft curls that did nothing but distract him, demanding that he pay attention to nothing else. He allowed his fingers to tease through them once, and Kasil gasped at his touch, then whimpered as though wishing for something. Her reaction to his touch was so genuine, so vulnerable that he had more than a little difficulty focusing onward. His fingers followed the curve of her taut belly with its gentle dip as he watched her chest rise and fall rapidly, her breaths but soft rasps.

It was at her breasts that Gendry was no longer just satisfied with looking and feeling his way up. He wanted to taste her, explore the soft peaks and warm valley of her chest. His tongue flicked at the skin between her breasts and chose a route to his right. With his hand, he cupped the roundness of it and enveloped the peak fully in his mouth, and a breath caught in Kasil's throat. His other hand rounded the curve of her other breast, but fingered the raised, firm point until finally holding it between his forefinger and thumb. All the while, Kasil's arms spread out, her hands grabbing hold of the bedding, and when he applied the slightest of pressure, her soft moans had become forceful, urgent.

He continued to taste his way up, his lips pressed here, his tongue flicked there up the curve of her neck, her soft-angled jaw, the soft skin connecting jaw to ear.

One deep breath and he inhaled the scent of her hair. It didn't smell of the stale ale of the inn, but of wood smoke. Gendry pulled away to look at her, to take in her ruddy cheeks, her lips full and red from their kisses, her welcoming eyes that didn't speak to him of kings and power, but of trust and true desire.

His lips were on hers in a heartbeat, his body lowered flush against hers, but Kasil's tongue began to fight for dominance, her hands pulling him closer to her. Her sudden urgency and forcefulness to control their closeness caused Gendry to pull back. He still didn't see the red witch in Kasil's eyes, but he felt her lingering in his mind, perhaps laughing at him all the way from Dragonstone.

His cock started to soften, and he felt that all too familiar feeling of despair creep into his heart. The eyes of the woman underneath him tried to hold his gaze, but he couldn't any longer. He was still her plaything; the red priestess still had her power over him.

Just before he could pull himself away from Kasil completely, she held his head in her hands, forcing him to face her, willing him to look in her eyes. They said nothing for what felt like eons.

"Have I done something wrong?" she asked him. Although her words were unsure, her tone gave off the confidence he felt he needed, felt as though he could latch onto it to weather this, overcome this.

"No," he assured her. Suddenly, his focus was not on him but was once again on her, or at least, her body. The warmth underneath him, her breaths shallow again, her lips parted. He nuzzled that part of her neck between her shoulder and jaw and inhaled deeply. The smell of wood smoke in her hair evoked all the comfort and safety a warm fire would provide.

And just like that, he was ready for her again; he wanted her with all of the ardor of before and then some.

He'd heard men talk of getting a woman ready before entering her, but for the life of him, he wasn't sure how to do that. At first, he'd thought to ask Kasil. Surely she would know, but the embarrassment of his pathetic experience in these matters kept his voice tightly locked in his throat.

At least he knew what went where, and he would capitalize on that little bit of knowledge as best he could. Capturing Kasil's mouth once more, he reached for her knees, lifting them higher and further apart, all the while he felt the warmth emanating from between her thighs. Resting one arm on the bed beside her head, his other hand felt around searching for the one thing he knew to look for. When he found it and marveled at how moist, how slippery she was, his body reacted with a tightening of his groin. As his fingers explored her, parting her, Kasil inhaled roughly and part of the air caught in her throat. It only encouraged him to continue by placing the tip of his cock there, although, finding the right positioning without his fingers was more of a challenge than he'd expected. He only hoped Kasil wouldn't hold his unsure fumbling against him.

Fortunately, Kasil waited patiently, her eyes on him curiously as he lined himself up. Kisses were forgotten as focused as he was to his task.

Slightly more confident of his position, he aligned the rest of his body with hers, resting on his arms that were now at either side of her head, his eyes closed and brows furrowed in concentration. To feel himself just lingering at her entrance was enough to waken his instincts. His abdominal muscles contracted, causing his hips to push forward and enter her slightly. Her warmth surrounded just that little bit of him, and he heard a desperate moan. It was a heartbeat before he realized it came from him.

It also took another heartbeat for that rush to clear his mind and remember the other person with him. This time it was Kasil's eyes closed tightly, her brows furrowed deeply, and her lower lip caught firmly between her teeth. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked her, the irony of asking her the same question not lost on him.

She shook her head emphatically, but didn't open her eyes or ease her brows, and Gendry swore he saw a hint of blood on her lower lip. He wondered if that was only a face made when she was in bed with a man. Thonas had told him women can sometimes make the strangest faces. So long as he hadn't done anything wrong, he didn't see any reason not to continue, and his body agreed with him even more. His hips pushed forward slowly, trying to maintain control of his movement inside her. The only problem was that he found resistance his way forward.

Suddenly, old stories from long forgotten acquaintances learning then what he was just understanding now, pummeled him together as one thought: "Your maidenhead!"

He looked down between them, then up at her face. Kasil's eyes snapped open and before he could think to do anything other than gape at her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips in a deadly grip. And in a matter of moments, her hands pressed firmly to his ass to pull him to her and bucked her hips to meet his.

Her body rigid and trembling, eyes shut tightly, brows furrowed, legs tensely pressed against his hips, and a yelp of pain reduced to a high-pitched whimper behind a bitten lip was the result of a maidenhead taken. It was done; it was over, and yet, Gendry was afraid to move, stuck inside her for fear of hurting her more.

He watched her face, hoping she could give him some guidance on what to do next, but then he realized that was a stupid hope; she was just as inexperienced as he was. Even less experienced being that at least he had one other experience, as traumatic and incomplete as it was. Like everyone else, he'd assumed she was like other serving girls and had lain with other men. Serving women often did for money or pleasure.

But why him? Why did she choose him to do this? "Why me?" The question slipped out so quickly that Gendry wasn't sure he'd really asked it out loud. And if he had more control of his body, including his tongue, he wouldn't have asked it. It wasn't a question he wanted hanging in the air while inside a woman. Unfortunately, he spent most of his control fighting his body's instincts to move inside her.

"I didn't want it," she began, her voice just as shaky as her body was trembling beneath him, "when I have to do what I must to survive, I wanted this to be with a good man now than some wretch of a man later." He eyes were still closed tightly, and Gendry thought he saw the formation of a tear at the corner of her eye. If it was, it never fully formed.

Gendry suddenly felt very stupid for even asking the question in his mind or aloud. It made so much sense. When she returns to Braavos, she would have to support her and her mother, and she had already told him and Thonas that she came to Westeros in search of work. More than likely, she would have to sell herself to survive, something she obviously avoided by coming here.

Kasil was not going to be his woman; she was not going to be his lover any longer than this night, but she chose him, hoping for a decent memory in what was surely to become an endless string of drunken lechers.

The red woman was pushed further from his thoughts as he became focused on one goal: this night between them would be memorable, would be the thing that they both needed to continue with their lives and do what they needed to move on and survive.

His mouth captured hers, and the tip of his tongue followed the border of her lips, urging them to part. Without hesitation, she opened to him, her mouth for his tongue and her thighs for his…

Her body was no longer rigid underneath him, and as he slowly withdrew from her, she breathed a sighed that sounded more like relief than pain. He slowly entered her again, and this time it was a sigh of discomfort rather than pain. The next time he slid himself inside her, the sigh almost sounded like pleasure. It was about the tenth time when he no longer counted because her sighs were definitely the sound of pleasure. Her hands took a firm hold of his jaw and pulled his face to hers so that their eyes met briefly before she nearly devoured him with her lips. Her tongue demanded his without question, which gave him hope that the worst was over.

There was nothing as perfect as her mouth to his, his tongue tasting hers, and him inside her at once. At first, he moved with a careful pace but increasing in speed as their kiss and the feel of her enveloping him fully caused his body to race to a faster rhythm. He was close, so very close, but was she? He wasn't sure how he would know.

The thought became secondary until they were completely forgotten as he lost any control of his body, his hips pumped into her, his speed increased to a frantic rhythm. He felt his sac tighten, the rush, and his cock pulse with release inside her.

It was too much to think beyond his need to collapse on top of her. She quietly wrapped her arms around him, surrounding him fully in her warmth as his head rested on her chest. He was too quick. From the stories he'd heard from boys long ago and Thonas recently, a man should try to at least last long enough for the woman he's with… that is, if he cared for her enjoyment.

He would give Kasil enjoyment this night if it killed him, and if this was only the first of more tries, it just might do that.


	3. I Should Have Known

Wooden wheels squeaked and creaked under the burden of loaded carts while people haggled and bartered for the best trade at stalls opening for the new day. The sounds of morning wafted into Gendry's room from his window, and he knew it was just before the sun rose fully. These sounds had always been nothing more than background noise for his numb mind, but this day was different.

His senses came alive as though they'd been sleeping for five years. Not only did he hear the sounds of the new day, he wanted to become a part of them. He wanted to get up and join the world without having to be prodded from his bed by Thonas.

Eyes still closed, he took a deep breath and smelled Kasil's scent in the bedding around him. Once she'd shed her garments, the sourness of old spilled ale was gone, and what was left in its place was a fusion of wood smoke and something else Gendry could only describe as musky and very arousing. Thonas had told him the scent of a woman was intoxicating, and Gendry finally understood what he meant.

The muscles in his thighs, abdomen, back and arms twitched and tingled, most likely from having been used so thoroughly the night before. It went well, extremely well, after the first try. There were no more thoughts of the red witch, and Gendry felt the weight of mistrust and anger at the world melt away until there was nothing left except the here and now.

He couldn't understand why, but in her eyes, he'd found a safe haven. In her body, he found comfort and peace. Kasil was his savior, and suddenly, he wanted to see her and remind himself that last night did indeed happen, that he truly was capable of being with a woman, he really was free.

His eyes opened to nothing beside him but the emptiness of the bed, and it occurred to him that it was foolish to believe she would stay this late. Daybreak was when serving girls started their day, after all.

Stretching his arms and legs and letting his toes curl, for once, Gendry started his day without dread or despair. Kasil gave him that, and he would be forever grateful. The woman gave him something he never thought he could get back, and he silently wished her well on her journey home to her mother.

Perhaps he even had Thonas to thank, although, Gendry would never admit it to him. Thonas said all he needed was to fuck the red witch out of his head, and that was what he did…and then some.

For so long, he'd resented his lot in life. He'd resented being used as property, no more than an animal to trade or slaughter, for nobles to further themselves in their quest for power where he didn't even understand the rules. In the end, it was friendship that saved him. Thonas. But the longer he thought about it, the more he realized that it had always been friendship that saved him. Arya.

She understood the nobles' cruel game and tried to warn him in her own way. "I'm not a lady," she would insist so many times. "I'm nothing like them," she would explain to him…well, more like yell at him. If he'd only truly listened to her, that her words were not that of a spoiled little lady with misguided dreams of how grand the lives of smallfolk were, perhaps he could have teased out the truth of it all.

Highborns and their noble blood used him, and any respect or admiration he held for them, all of them, was sucked away by those damned leeches and burned in that cursed fire. But Arya was of noble blood and kept him safe, looked out for him, didn't try to use him. She just wanted him to be her family.

It had been ages since he allowed himself to think of the girl. Second only to the red witch, she was his most painful memory, but one of his own making. He decided to leave her before the red witch ever came to the Brotherhood to trade for him. He'd abandoned her, afraid that she would abandon him for her noble family, and that was his greatest shame, the reason why he couldn't face his memories of her.

She was dead, died years ago, but now his mind was free of the nobles and their games. He no longer cared which noble had what in store for him. Even if they were to take him this very day and sacrifice him to the fires—he'd overheard the intentions of his "uncle" and the red witch—they couldn't take away the freedom in his mind. And with that newly found freedom, he found the courage to face his shame just as he faced his despair the night before, another reason for him to thank Kasil. She gave him back Arya.

And the more he thought about Arya, the more he wanted to honor the memory of his friend, the one he'd turned away from. The one that radiated trust and true friendship from every pore, traits Gendry didn't fully appreciate at the time.

There were rumors, terrible rumors of her mother living but not living among the Brotherhood. He could recount for her mother Arya's life from the time shortly after her father's death to the moment they'd met the Brotherhood. Sure, the Brotherhood Without Banners would send him back to the red witch for more coin, but that didn't bother him anymore. Death didn't bother him anymore, so long as his last act in this world meant something. And to honor his friendship with Arya meant something. That would be his way to honor their friendship, to honor what she'd given freely and what he refused so readily.

Thonas wouldn't approve. Even though the king who'd issued his death-sentence died years ago, the decree to kill all of Robert Baratheon's bastards had not been rescinded. Thonas had lost a young niece to the purge, the slaughter Gendry barely escaped, and he would undoubtedly worry about him. With Gendry's new appreciation of friendship, his new appreciation of the boisterous man with voracious appetites, he would do everything in his power to assuage his friend's fears. Thonas would have to understand that this must be done, that he would leave on the morrow.

Gendry lifted himself from the bed, rested comfortably back on his elbows and took in the room that seemed bright and new overnight.

On the table opposite the bed near his room's door, a pitcher of water, a small washbasin, and something oval-shaped and wrapped in cloth were set and waiting for him. Gendry could almost taste what he could only guess as bread. Had Kasil left this for him? A quick fear that she would ask him to stay with her evaporated as he remembered her own predicament: she had a mother to go back to in a different country. And he had a task to carry out, for his friend.

His legs swung up and over the bed, comfortably resting on the floor as he sat upright and gathered his thoughts more. Making his way to the table, he rubbed his face in his hands trying to wake himself fully.

As he poured the water into the washbasin, some of it splashed over the sides, and he didn't mind the mess or the cold drops against his skin in the chilly morning air. He splashed some of it on his face, scrubbing thoroughly and allowing the cold to help wake him. He then poured water into his cupped hand, first allowing it to swish in his mouth before drinking some. As dry as he felt, he was going to need three pitchers of water to replenish what he'd sweated the night before.

Next, he focused on the bread, but was disappointed that there was no smell from the wrapping. It wasn't freshly baked, but it was still thoughtful to leave something for him to eat.

Slowly, he unfolded the wrapping and found another layer, and then another, until he finally made it down to what was left for him to see. It was a sword, or could barely be called one. The blade was so thin and the hilt so small, it could only be used by a child or a very small woman. Gendry lifted it in his hand and studied the make and feel of it as any good blacksmith would, even as rusty as he was. There was something familiar about it, something he should remember.

And like a blast from a windstorm, he did remember. This was Arya's sword; this was her pride and her soul given to her by a beloved family member.

Arya's sword, its significance all but lost, and yet, here it was presented to him. There were only two people in the world who knew Gendry understood the significance of this blade: Hot Pie and Arya. But HotPie was more than likely dead. He'd settled in an inn that gained quite a history of blood and death over the years. And Arya was dead as well, so said the rumors from the Brotherhood that made their way to Flea Bottom. Gendry's head snapped to the door of his room, the door Kasil had walked through before leaving these things for him, and a cold realization began at the nape of his neck and shivered down his spine until finally ending at his toes.

Questions popped into his head, and the answers began to surface, he felt his chest tighten, and he dropped the small sword on the table. Only out of habit was he able to grab his breeches, slide them up his legs and over his hips, and tie it, because his mind was far too preoccupied to concentrate on anything other than searching for Kasil for answers he didn't want to admit he already knew. Before rushing out of his door, he snatched the blanket from his bed and wrapped it around his body. He wasn't going to waste time dressing fully.

The docks in the back of the inn were filled with fishermen going about their daily business, ignoring the woman standing on the edge with her arms folded and her eyes intensely focused on a ship quickly reaching the horizon.

Mornings in King's Landing were only chilly now that winter was waning, chilly nights and mild daytime weather was the extent of the effect late winter had on this region.

When Gendry took a good look at the woman on the edge of the dock, he realized that the face was exactly the same, but he wouldn't have guessed it was the same woman. There was no hint of Kasil in her expression or bearing. The hard, sharp edge of a girl he knew long ago replaced her as though Kasil never existed. She turned to meet his gaze, and he saw the color of cold, hard steel. Only now did he realize that color was what had drawn him to Kasil in the first place. They focused on him, awaiting his next move.

How could he have not seen it? The features were all there. Sure, her body had become womanly, very womanly. More height, more curves, and her large eyes were no longer as large, now set in an adult face and fit it rather well, now. The tousled mat of hair that once covered her forehead had grown long and silky, and unlike the night before, had the slightest curl at the edges, cascading down the sides of her head and framing her face flatteringly. Her jaw was more pronounced and the roundness of childhood all but lost.

There were changes to be sure, but if he looked hard enough, he could have seen through them. That was just it. He hadn't looked hard enough, hadn't thought to look at all. As far as he knew, Arya was dead and his memories of her were consciously suppressed, so he didn't look for her in the faces of the woman passing through his life.

Even so, he had the feeling that his mind accepted her death fully, but his heart didn't. He wanted her to be alive; he wanted his friend back. He wanted back the closest thing he had to family. He wanted to be able to trust someone again the way he trusted her.

Gendry quietly sat on the dock beside her and crossed his legs, waiting for the woman he called Kasil to join him. Without a word, he opened his blanket, his only protection from the morning chill besides his breeches, to her. She leaned back into his arm, and he closed the blanket around them both. "Arya," he said her name in a whisper barely more than a breath. It was a question; it was an accusation; it was frightening; it was exhilarating all at once. He had to remain calm. Her name overheard by the wrong ears was just as dangerous as his.

"Gendry," she whispered back without looking at him.

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_So, yes, Kasil is Arya. Tada. Like most of you hadn't figured that one out ;) The next chapter is Arya's point of view. I tried to keep this story in one POV, Gendry's, but there's so much information in Arya's mind. Sadly, neither show!Gendry nor books!Gendry are great conventionalist, so I just couldn't see how to get all of that information from his point of view. Arya's far more perceptive which allows for more hints and tidbits to gather what he's thinking and feeling in the chapter, though._


	4. Change of Plans (Arya)

_Thanks to all readers, followers, favoriters, and reviewers!_

_So I planned on doing only one Arya POV, but it seems everything won't fit into one chapter. There are two different scenes that focus on two different emotional aspects of this Gendry/Arya relationship I thought I could cram into one. Hahaha, silly me. So the next chapter will be another Arya POV, then after that it's back to only Gendry's POV. That is, unless Arya demands to be heard, and all of you know how that can go. I hope the POV switching isn't too much of a pain. To make it less confusing, I'm marking Arya's chapters._

_This chapter was a bit tricky because there are memories within memories. I hope it's not too confusing, and as always, I hope you enjoy._

_For the anonymous reviewers out there, I can't respond to your questions because there is no way to PM you guys with the answers (and I'd rather not clog up the story with my full responses). I do, however, reply to all logged-in reviews and PMs. _

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The light frost of dawn started to seep in further than skin deep and caused her to shiver before Gendry offered the warmth of his body and blanket. Arya believed the chill had something more to do with the emotions churning inside her than the actual weather.

They'd exchanged names, their true names, and suddenly she felt more exposed than when he was on top of her and inside her. She hadn't heard her name spoken on someone's lips for what seemed like eternity, but this was what she'd intended when she left Needle on the his table, hadn't she?

Honestly, she didn't know what she intended. She'd had other plans for the morning: hop aboard the earliest ship bound for Braavos, the ship now hugging the horizon. But that didn't work out. None of her plans worked out.

"Why me?" he asked her, his voice so soft and fragile it tore at her heart, a thing she'd imagined for so long had shriveled and hardened into stone. It hurt even more that she couldn't answer that directly; the truth made her nervous. He'd asked this simple question before, just after she forced him to take her maidenhead. Why him? She'd met other good men during her travels. Why did it have to be Gendry?

"And why did you lie to me?" _That_ question offended her.

"I didn't lie to you," she told him with a steady tone that took some effort to maintain. "I wouldn't lie to you."

"You did lie to me!" he spat as he removed his arm from around her shoulders, although, the blanket stayed in place around her. His anger bubbled to the surface, barely contained in a strangled whisper that wanted so much to be a shout. There was that quick temper of her beloved friend she remembered. "You were supposed to be dead. You said your name was Kasil…your ill mother…but you're highborn…I took your…" He covered his face with his hands as the half thoughts finally wound down into one defeated statement: "Oh, Seven Hells."

"I lied to your friend. I didn't lie to you, Gendry."

She watched as he slid his hands from his face down to his chin, rubbing roughly at the skin in frustration. His eyes shifted from side to side, his gaze turned inward, and his brows furrowed as he tried to recall every conversation they'd had, every moment shared. When his cheeks and neck reddened and his eyes flicked in her direction, Arya could tell he was remembering their time in his bed. The wave of heat from his body caused her body to flush, the knot in her belly to tighten, and a sudden rush of her own warmth between her legs.

This effect he had on her was confusing and terrifying. Five years ago, she would get a flutter in her belly whenever he smiled at her or held her to comfort or keep her warm, but it was manageable, easy to overlook. These new reactions her body had for him were persistent and demanding.

She had to work very hard not to stare at the way his coal black eyebrows drew together or the way his strong jaw clenched in concentration, or the way the masculine lump in his throat bobbed when he swallowed audibly or follow the path of muscles from his tense shoulder down to the bulging of his upper arm—her thoughts stumbled on just how strong he was—and further down the sinewy trail of his forearm. When she reached his fingers, pressed together and under his chin, she struggled to suck in breathable air.

It wasn't until he took a resigned breath and closed his eyes that she was pulled from the thoughts of what his fingers had done to her, what more they could do to her.

She knew he recalled every moment of their time together and couldn't find one lie to him. He couldn't remember one because she didn't lie to him, not even in her demeanor. In Thonas's presence, she was Kasil, pleasant, friendly Kasil with her poor, ill, bed-ridden mother back in Braavos. But when they were together, alone, she was Arya. There were no smiles, coy or sociable. She didn't react other than how she wanted to react.

Just as quickly, his eyes snapped open and he looked at her, the anger fading like smoke.

"You didn't answer my question. Why? Why me?"

"I've spent years trying to forget, to forget my family, my house, and forget Arya Stark. I came here to perform a task as well as prove that I could truly forget." It was true, although not the whole truth, and she hoped it was enough to placate his curiosity. "I was going to the Wall, to leave Needle with my brother, Jon, but I saw you."

He listened to her with rapt attention, barely breathing as she knew she had to continue. "I didn't lie to you. For the future I wanted, I didn't want that encumbrance. A good man now is still preferable to a wretch of a man later. When I saw you, I thought…I thought I could kill two birds with one stone. I thought that I could be with you and leave you as easily as taking a new breath. That I could prove all of my ties to Westeros were as dead as Arya Stark."

"And now?"

She turned her gaze from him and focused on the ship she should have been aboard on her way back to Braavos. "I'm still here with you, aren't I?"

Before finding Gendry, she'd been so sure of her plan. After the completion of her task for the Faceless Men, she would leave Needle in a place for her brother to find and leave Westeros and Arya Stark once and for all. Her skills of deception had improved so much that no one, not even the Kindly Man, could detect that Arya Stark still existed, that Needle kept her tethered to that life. Leaving Needle and her brother would have been her own test, her ultimate test for giving up the life she once knew, but not long after she arrived in Westeros, she saw Gendry passing by while she haggled for a dark bay rounsey.

He and Thonas were talking, more like Thonas was talking and Gendry listened with some interest. There was no difference from his look then, when he was taken by the red woman all those years ago, to that very moment in Flea Bottom. He even kept the facial hair she'd often teased him for growing.

When she left for Braavos after the slaughter of her mother, brother, and his bannermen, she was sure her friend met a similar fate. Death. For a time, she assumed the red woman had some connection with the Gold Cloaks' hunt for him. Apparently not.

But in passing, he didn't recognize her. He even glanced in her general direction without the slightest bit of interest, which didn't surprise her because most times she didn't recognize her own reflection. From the age of thirteen, five years made a remarkable difference in her body and face. The changes also allowed for the opportunity to devise a new plan. Even as he and his friend turned the corner in the road and were no longer in sight, the plan to leave Needle with her brother was immediately abandoned in her mind. Gendry was just as much a part of her life in Westeros as her brother, Jon. She'd been through a couple of hells and back with him, and whether he agreed or not, she'd come to view him as family. To leave Needle with him would be just as much of a test as leaving Needle with her brother.

After following them down the road and back to the inn, she immediately requested work as a serving woman. Fortunately for her, the work often attracted transient types, and there was always plenty of need for servers.

How she would leave Needle with Gendry was laughably easy, but as she watched him brood in his cups, the plan reshaped itself almost of its own accord. Why she chose to lay with him rather than simply leave Needle? It was the truth that she wanted to kill two birds with one stone, but she also willfully ignored the flutter that became an urgent tightening in her belly, how her breaths quickened, and her body—some areas more than others—pulsed at the sight of him. If she had paid more attention, she would have realized well before that this new plan was not as simple and well-thought out as she believed. If she'd accepted it for what it truly was, she would have realized that she was not a girl looking at a boy, but a woman looking at a man, and all that that meant.

With her plan set in motion from the start of her employment as a serving woman, she continued it by gaining the friendship of the other women. She was friendly and seemingly open, and the women couldn't help but trust poor Kasil with the kind heart. That's when she made them take notice of the quiet, unassuming man always with the very loud Thonas. Everyone seemed to know Thonas, but no one knew anything about the man with him, including his name, most likely by design.

Her next step was to casually mention how Thonas worked his way through almost every serving woman in the inn, but how his friend, the strapping man that he was, didn't seem to take any interest. Soon, as expected, the serving women more familiar with Thonas began to ask him privately about his friend. "Why haven't we seen him with a woman?" asked the black haired woman named Haney. "Does he like girls?" the red-head named Patti asked him.

The plans within plans wove its way perfectly to her desired end: Thonas pressing the issue for Gendry to find a woman. If he chose one of the other women, it would have made her part in this more complicated but not insurmountable. She would have simply intercepted them, surreptitiously poisoned the woman—nothing fatal—and offer herself as a replacement. But Gendry didn't choose any of the others; he chose her. And so when Thonas called her over to refill his cup, everything continued smoothly, the story accepted wholly, and Gendry's companion, the letch that he was, offered the bargain exactly as she knew he would.

The man was notorious in the inn; several of the serving women warned her about him when she started. Boisterous and raunchy with wine and women his sole concern in life, he reminded her of the old stag king, just a hell of a lot thinner and a hell of a lot poorer. The man couldn't help but offer such a bargain for his friend. It was in his nature.

When Gendry took her to his room, she was so sure of her plan that she immediately began to undress, even as he seemed to wage some kind of war with himself at his door. He'd offered to let her go, give her what she needed without anything in return, but the time for lies had ended. She would not volunteer any truths, but she wouldn't lie to him either.

Although twisted to fit the story of Kasil, she decided to tell him the truth of why she accepted the deal. She did have enough coin to return to Braavos, and she did want to avoid Thonas's advances.

And in the decision to be truthful, she also decided to be truthful to herself. She wanted him. Gods she wanted his lips on hers, his body close, his muscles moving under her touch. "I don't need the coin. I have enough. I just wished to share your bed." It was the truth. Gods help her, it was the truth.

On the dock, as her mind wandered and her thoughts reeled and he quietly watched the sun rise over Blackwater Bay, there was a silence between them that Arya didn't like. It made her restless and fidgety with his shoulder against hers and his warmth radiating against her under the blanket. In fact, the very idea of being this close to him warmed her as it reminded her of the night before, when they—

"I never thought of you that way, Arya." She jumped, wondering for a moment if he could somehow hear her current thought. But that was impossible.

Did he regret what they'd done? He seemed quite pleased when he thought her name was Kasil, but did he now regret that it had happened with Arya? "And now?"

His arm returned to her shoulders, and he pulled her closer to his body. "I'm still here with you, aren't I?" His answer didn't settle her fears, but she would let it be enough for now.

Perhaps it was a reaction to the fact that they seemed to ask each other the same questions, or perhaps he believed himself to be so clever to return her answer back to her word for word. Either way, the smile reached his eyes, and then he laughed. Not just any laugh. It was a full throated, deep rumbling laugh she hadn't heard for years, and she hadn't realized until this moment that she missed it so much. Since she'd been watching him, she wondered if he was still capable of it. Under any other circumstance, his laughter at her expense would have chafed and left him flattened on the dock, alone. But she loved that sound, now, even as it eased into a mirthful chuckle.

"I think a part of me knew who you were, that part of me that didn't want to believe you were dead." He watched his breath hang in the air like smoke until it dissipated slowly. "I guess it was the only reason why I could do what I did last night. I've always trusted you." His laughter was gone, and in its place was a seriousness that made her feel uneasy. "I guess you're the only woman I could trust after..." He turned his head from her, but she could see the muscles around his clenched jaw and tightly closed eyes crease with so much tension.

Her first thought was a selfish one. Woman. Even as her mind registered his other words, his acceptance of her as a woman grown satisfied her, and that annoyed her. Proven survivor, fighter, assassin, and yet, this one person's acceptance of her womanhood made it all feel very real to her. Even so, she had to push aside that thought for one that bothered her for quite some time: "What did that red woman do to you?"

He winced and refused to turn his head in her direction. Whatever it was, it cut deeper than a knife ever could.

She remembered during their night together how, when her initial nervousness of having seen him naked and aroused had withered and gave way to her need for his touch, she'd become more aggressive in her need. He immediately pulled away from her, and in his lightning blue eyes, she saw a fear that she hadn't seen since the day he was almost tortured in Harrenhal or the day the red woman took him. This was that woman's work, Arya had no doubt, and as she felt him soften between them, Arya wondered what she did to remind him of that woman. It was when he withdrew from her that Arya felt a wave of panic.

She had fully accepted her need for him, even when she reconsidered her plan after the sight of him naked. She'd seen him naked before, but a man aroused was a completely different animal. And when he came to her and crashed his lips to hers, by the old gods, the new, and the many-faced, any shred of denial that the tightening in her gut and the pulsing heat between her thighs was for him vanished.

Before he could move away from her fully, she captured his face in her hands and pulled him back to her, to face her. She willed him to look at her, to reassure him that she was not the red woman.

"Have I done something wrong?" she asked him after a very long moment. She hoped to know what it was so that she wouldn't do it again. But that wasn't necessary when she watched the tension clear from his face, the fear dissipate in his eyes as he slowly worked his way back to her and away from the red woman.

On the dock, there was more silence between them as she was, once again, lost in thoughts of their night together. This time, Gendry seemed just as lost until he asked her something that she didn't quite catch the first time. He repeated himself at her questioning look. "I couldn't stop it from hurting you, but did you enjoy it, eventually? You weren't afraid, were you?" His face was red and his brows tilted slightly upward in worry.

Her first instinct was to laugh at the absurdity that he had hurt her, when she had hurt herself. She was the one that forced the…issue. The way his voice broke at the word "afraid" gave her pause. There was some deeper meaning there, and her only option was to give him the truth.

"I wasn't afraid, Gendry. I could never be afraid of you."

"Good," he muttered in a voice so low she could barely hear him. Perhaps she wasn't meant to. "No one should be afraid, especially the first time."

She pretended not to hear him, but it tore at her heart just a little bit more when she gleaned from it that he was afraid his first time. She removed herself from his warmth, stripped cold in the morning chill, and stood. "As for whether I enjoyed it…" She reached her hand out to him to help him stand up. "Come on."

"Where're we going?" he asked before taking her hand and lifting himself from where he sat on the dock.

With no desire to be like the ladies and their proper speech and demure wording, even if she had to accept her title to reclaim her name, she was going to show Westeros exactly who and what Arya Stark was, starting now. "We're going to go back to your room, and you'll show me more of your cock. When we're too spent to continue, I'll drink some tea, and we'll talk some more. Now, stop asking stupid questions."

There was a heartbeat of hesitation and confusion, until the slightest curve of a smile appeared on his face, and the smile broadened just the way she liked it. He took his place next to her and once again opened his blanket to her. "As my lady commands."

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_Just a reminder that the next chapter will also be an Arya chapter._


	5. Pack, Family, Future (Arya)

_I hope you enjoy._

_Thank everyone for the reviews, favorites, and follows. I really do appreciate each and every one of you, so thank you all!_

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"As _my_ lady commands."

Once, five or a thousand years ago, those words would have been meant to provoke her. Not that it took much, then. It was the time when Gendry would have chosen to surround himself with strangers rather than accept her as a lady over him.

This time, there was an acceptance of the title, respect and seriousness for what it meant for them both. He understood that when she decided to embrace him, she was embracing all that she was: Arya of House Stark, Lady or Princess of Winterfell, depending on who you were to ask in Westeros.

It was the way his voice deepened at the word "my," however, that hinted of something more, of a possessiveness that she wasn't sure how to interpret or how it made her feel. All she knew was that it made her body warmer beside him.

Their tongues lay silent during their walk back to the inn, but she couldn't help but glance in his direction every other heartbeat just to assure herself that he wouldn't vanish like he did in her dreams.

_She would come upon a smithy, always at night, always with a warm glow of the fires from the open doorway. When she reached the door, she watched him hammer the steel with the deafening clank. His back to her, bare except for the straps of his leather smithy apron tied at his neck and waist, she could see his shoulder muscles strain and roll under the weight of the metal. Her eyes followed the lines of his ribs, down to the narrower waist and hips barely covered by his breeches, and she felt the flutter in her stomach._

_In her dream, there was no need to ignore and make excuses for it. She wanted to touch him, to feel those muscles work under her fingertips. But when she reached for him, when her fingers were but a hair's breadth from his skin, he vanished. Looking around for him, the fires were dead and cold and in the place where Gendry stood was his old bull helm, mangled and misshapen._

The nights when she couldn't sleep, she lay awake and imagined his last breaths, imagined how he met his death after the red woman took him, believing she was somehow connected with the Gold Cloaks. In Arya's mind, it was always without anyone to mourn him, without anyone to care that the bull-headed boy named Gendry passed from this world.

But he was alive, they both were very much alive. After years of loss, after so many years of ignoring what that flutter in her gut meant, Arya wanted nothing more than to celebrate their lives in his room, for as long as he had the endurance. Every so often, she would catch him looking at her the same way, perhaps just as in awe that she was alive beside him or just as eagerly anticipating what they would do with each other in his room, which only inflamed her desire either way.

When he wasn't looking her way, he was looking straight ahead, eyes squinting, brows furrowed until the crease between them deepened, and his lips pressed tightly together. He was lost in his thoughts, not unlike how she remembered he would lose himself while forging metals.

They reached the main hall of the inn; Arya pulled herself closer to him. Her head tilted toward his chest and downward to allow her hair to obscure almost half her face, and she wrapped her arms around his torso. Her added touch caused him to tense for a moment, and then he relaxed until he eventually brought his arms around her protectively. She hoped he understood her gesture for what it was and produced the sweetest, most contented, starry-eyed smile she could muster, converting her face and features back into Kasil, the simple serving woman.

With his arm draped around her shoulders securely and his blanket wrapped around them both as one, Newford and all of the serving women stopped what they were doing to stare at the couple as they walked through the main hall. Patti even gave her a wink as they passed by.

This time at his door, there was no fumbling with the key in the lock. Gendry's hand was steady, and the lock clicked immediately.

This time, she had no illusions that Arya Stark would disappear after one night in the room and a woman with no name would be on her way to Braavos by morn, that the flutter and need for him was nothing. This time, she was fully aware that they were all falsehoods.

It wasn't until they were securely in his room with the door closed behind them, Gendry having just clicked the lock, that all pretenses were dropped. There was an uncomfortable moment when Arya wondered whether he expected to still see Kasil when he turned to face her. For an awkwardly long moment, he stood there appraising her as his eyes searched her for something. She felt the crease in her brow deepen along her forehead equal to her mounting frustration, wondering what he was looking for. Was it Kasil? The frustration gave way to anger, and that's when he rushed at her; his arms hooked around her waist, and he lifted her up close to him in one swoop.

Her feet dangled in the air as he held her for a long moment, and she could look or think of nothing other than the blue eyes staring into her own. In them, she followed the zigzag pattern that made her think of lightning, a force of nature in its fury. Gendry.

He pulled her body tightly against his until her breath squeezed from her chest, and he nuzzled her neck, inhaling deeply. "Arya," he said her name, extending the individual syllables as his mouth skimmed along her neck. The first "a" of her name was a gust of heated breath against her skin; the "ry" vibrated from his mouth to the area just below her earlobe. The final "a" was like a sigh from a long held breath as he released her just enough to keep her close to him but return her feet firmly to the floor.

It was that breath, along with what she felt was firm between them, that fanned the fire of her all-consuming desire to have him inside her again. Her arms slipped over his broad shoulders, around and up the nape of his neck, and her hand firmly took hold of the hair in the back of his head. With one tug, his throat was exposed to her as a wolf to its alpha, and the flat of her tongue traced along the ridges of his trachea to the extremely sensitive skin under his jaw. She shifted her weight to the balls of her feet for added height as she rounded over the prickly hairs covering his chin, and stopped at his lips.

She didn't so much want to taste him as devour him; her mouth on his, her invading tongue claimed him. There was no struggle; his tongue acquiesced to her dominance quickly, and his moan vibrated against her mouth as he tightened his arms around her waist to draw her body tightly against his.

Arya released his hair, and his head dipped down, his eyes searching for hers to meet his. It called to her, the lightning blue, and her knees almost buckled beneath her. Gone was the timid shadow of the boy she once knew. It was the first time he looked at her with an emotion not laced with fear. He wanted her, his hard cock between them was proof of that, but in his eyes was need. He needed her just as she had to admit to herself that she needed him.

Her hands slipped from his neck down to his chest, and she gave him a hard push. It wasn't enough to move him much, but it was enough to startle him into releasing her. Before he could fully regain his balance, she grabbed the drawstring of his breeches and used his unsteady movement backward, while snapping her hand back firmly, to untie it and loosen his waistband at the same time. His breeches fell to his feet, and Arya couldn't help but feel some satisfaction that this time he was the one naked with her fully clothed, however temporary that would be.

One more push to his chest with all of her weight and his back hit the door, forcing a rough breath from him. Although, she wasn't sure if it was solely from the impact or if her aggression aroused him. Before their first coupling he withdrew from her wilder nature, but afterward, he seemed to grow comfortable with it. By their second time, he almost seemed aroused by it.

The dark centers of his eyes were wide, black pools now, and she felt unnerved by how exposed she felt. It was a feeling that he might be able to see inside her, find those dark corners of her mind and heart she didn't want to share with anyone. She felt bound to him, her soul like a butterfly caught by the wings. If she were to struggle to break free too much, too hard, she would only hurt herself.

She didn't want to be a butterfly; she didn't want to be restrained. She would settle for nothing less than a wolf, free and wild, so she took a predatory step in his direction and untied the lacings of her dress. It fell to the floor, and she stepped out of it while sliding the shoulder strap of her shift off of her arm. The other strap slid with her next step, and by the time she was in front of him again, she was just as naked. Their eyes still focused on each other, Arya felt the heat between her thighs with a moist rush urging her forward. She leapt into his arms that bound her body to his once more.

He surprised her by quickly turning them both until it was her body pinned against the door. Not what she expected, but the feel of him pressed so tightly against her, the feel of his cock pressed against her belly, flamed her core and made her insides throb in demand with little room in her mind to think about their positions.

Her legs wrapped tightly around him, one of his hands held the back of her thigh firmly while his other hand was free to place himself where they both wanted him to be. He breathed her name in her ear as he pushed his hips up and forward, entering her quickly. The ache—what must have been a remnant of the pain she'd felt during their first two times—was nothing but an afterthought compared to the pleasure she experienced this time. His free hand slapped firmly under her other thigh and held her to him as they both cried out: from him a throaty moan while hers was more strangled. Her name was on his lips as he lifted her body a little higher and pulled his hips down and back, the feel of him moving out of her was hard to accept, even if only for a moment. Her only thought was that she wanted him back; her nails clawed into his skin to demand that he fill her again and become a part of her forever.

When he did so, her eyes closed and her head lolled to the side as she felt him fully inside her. That's what she wanted; that's what she needed.

And with each thrust, she felt something wind tightly in her groin like she had the last time, but this time it didn't surprise her when it pulled at every point in her body until all of her was as taut as a bowstring. And it certainly didn't surprise her when she felt it unravel in a snap from her center out to her fingers and toes in a pulsing wave.

It was only two heartbeats later when she felt him thrust into her one last time with a grunt, and his body shuddered. "Seven Hells," he murmured, spilling his seed inside her with a pulse to match her own. His arms and legs trembled under the weight of supporting them both, and she felt their bodies start to slide down. To free him of half his burden, she straightened her legs to the floor.

In his eyes, now that their bodies were sated for a time, she no longer saw the same need but something else she couldn't understand. His hand slid along her jaw to cup her face and pulled her into a kind of kiss they hadn't shared before. It was still needful and passionate, but not forged of fire. It was soft wind and steady ground; it was a foundation. His lips parted slightly to taste her lower lip, and then he pulled away slowly, his eyes focused on hers.

She couldn't help but trace in her mind how the bright, almost white, blue surrounding the black centers of his eyes streaked toward the outer boundaries of an intense indigo background. Gods, would they ever make it to his bed?

* * *

Gendry twisted his body to roll off of her and flopped his back to the bed. His chest heaved, and his breath rasped as he took her hand and sandwiched it between his much larger two as though in prayer, raising it to his lips to kiss the outside of her thumb.

"I will follow you to the end of this world and back, Arya. I won't leave you, and I won't hide from Stannis Baratheon or that red witch anymore." He breathed deeply, and then added, "If they still want me dead, they will have to work a lot harder this time."

She turned on her side to face him, allowing him to keep her hand between his. This was the continuation of their conversation on the dock, at least Gendry had decided it so, and her training asserted itself without being fully conscious of it. She focused on his face and the bulk of his body to look for signs of lies or half-truths. Not that she expected to find any, but to look for them was a part of who she was, now. "Why would Stannis Baratheon want to kill you, Gendry?"

"The purpose of my death was different, but it was the same reason why the Gold-Cloaks wanted me," he said as she felt his hands press tightly against hers. His eyes stared above him, his gaze somewhere beyond, and she saw the twitch of his brows upward in what seemed like fear or worry, perhaps both, for only a moment. To bring him back to her, she pressed her other hand to his, and his eyes immediately shifted in her direction.

"I'm that old, fat King Robert's bastard."

Her breath caught in her throat; she didn't need to look for signs of a lie because she knew it to be true as soon as he said the words. The black hair, the lightning blue eyes, the strong build. It was so clear as though her entire past opened up and sprawled before her eyes. Jon Arryn visited Gendry and died shortly thereafter. Her father visited Gendry and was killed by Joffrey shortly thereafter. That's when she started to hear the rumors that Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen were the children of Cersei's brother and not King Robert. Anyone with eyes open could see it; her father hinted as much before he was arrested.

Arya let out a breath she didn't know she held while lost in her thoughts. This was the true cause of her father's death. This was what led to the beginning of the destruction of her house. "But why would Stannis Baratheon want to kill you?" she asked him, half interested and half still lost in her own thoughts. "You have no claim to his holdings."

He brought their hands to his lips again and kissed all of her fingers he could reach before he began his tale of the red woman taking him to Dragonstone, revealing the identity of his father. How he dropped his guard for sweet words, a comely face, and a welcoming cunt. She remembered how he stared at the woman in her red garb as she came upon the Brotherhood; he was halfway in her hands even by then, which caused Arya to flush. And it wasn't the pleasant kind of flush Gendry managed to bring about, but the angry, vengeful rush of heat to her skin calculating the woman's death even as she attentively listened to the rest of his story.

The woman took from him; she bound him and leeched him with the promise of a sacrificial pyre to end his life. Arya listened quietly as her senses picked up the way his voice cracked at the mention of her name, or how he blinked more when he spoke of Stannis and a man named Davos witnessing his humiliation. The tension in his voice did seem to ease ever so slightly at the mention of Davos. It was when he described being thrown in the belly of Dragonstone that she heard that weak tilt of despair in his voice, what she'd heard before their night together.

That's when her rage and her sorrow collided. Why was it that the bastards in her life were the best this world had to offer and yet were treated so cruelly? She pulled and twisted her body until her chest was over his, and her hands securely held to both sides of his face, willing his eyes to hers. Even as he tried to evade her gaze, his eyes shining with unshed tears that he fought too valiantly to hold back, she moved her head in his view until he could only give her what she wanted.

"They have taken everyone from me, and they have taken everything from you. What's done is done, but I promise you that I will not let them take from you again!" she told him. "You are my pack, you are my family. And they will never harm my family again!"

Gendry wrapped his arms around her tightly, pressing her chest close to his and her cheek to his collarbone. "Family," he repeated, and the word echoed in her mind until she drifted into dark mist of sleep.

_Her legs pumped underneath her in a rhythmic thumping as she chased the howl not far from her. It was for her, a call only for her. Just beyond the thicket of trees was a clearing with one direwolf, large and black with blue eyes that reflected the lightning above them._

_They were without packs, lone direwolves wild in the woods and had no reason to trust each other. He curled his body to nip something at his hind quarter out of her view. She circled him carefully before she realized what held his attention was a wound, an arrow jutting from his croup and scabbed over. He tried a few more times to nip at it before settling into another mournful howl. With wary eyes, he watched her slowly approach him, but she held her head low and her posture submissive enough to calm his defensive instincts. As soon as she was close enough, she clenched her teeth on the wood firmly and snapped her jaw away from him, effectively pulling the remnant of the arrow out. The other direwolf gave off a pitiful whimper. She tentatively moved closer—his wound freshly opened and she didn't want to spook him—and licked the wound clean._

_In return, he turned, nestled his muzzle under her chin and licked her gently, a gesture of submission. He recognized her as his alpha, which meant they were now a pack. Lone wolves and direwolves often found a mate to start their own pack, and she found hers. Her pack, her family, her…_

_His muzzle was no longer a muzzle but the jaw and lips of a human. The licks were no longer gentle but a frenzy along her throat. She looked down to see a tangle of two human bodies, and when she looked up again, the wolf was Gendry. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead and his hair stuck to his skin as his blue eyes focused on her intensely. His arms were wrapped around her as though his life depended on holding her. With one thrust, he entered her, and Arya howled for her past and future. Her pack, her family, her mate._

_Only then did she notice the campfire near them. Around it sat a wolf, a dragon, and a stag, until the dragon opened its wings to the extent of its impressive span and pushed itself into the air with its powerful legs. Arya watched as it flapped its wings and propelled itself higher into the air. Above her, Gendry continued to move against her body, his hips frantically working against hers, and she watched the dragon join others in the sky, black shadows in the moonlight against the inky blue, in what seemed to be their own dance. The dragon from the campfire singled itself from the others with two at its tail, and they swirled in the air until they blurred as one. What was formed from the three looked more to be a dragon with three heads rather than three separate dragons._

_Gendry's body shuddered above her as he gripped her body tightly to his, and Arya heard him grunt before releasing himself inside her while panting her name._

Arya's eyes snapped open. This was the second time she'd dreamt this dream, the first being the night before. To wake herself fully, she took a deep breath and inhaled the musky scent of Gendry beside her, and the words from her dream echoed in her mind, "Her pack, her family, her mate."

Her mate? She sat up slowly, taking care not to disturb him more than she had to, and turned her body to face him. He looked so peaceful and young, the glimpse of the boy she remembered on his way to take the Black over five years ago. His life had aged him, not that he hadn't always looked a little older than his age before, but the ghost of the boy she thought was lost long ago still lingered in there. It seemed he came out when he slept.

Her mate?

She watched him shift slightly while she eased off of the bed, he laid there quietly oblivious to her and the world outside.

He wasn't a wolf; he was a bull…no, a stag. No, she thought as she poured water into the wash basin and dipped a cloth in it to clean herself, all that mattered was that he was hers.


	6. Are You Friend or Foe?

_Just to let everyone know, I was wavering on the Sansa side-story, but made a final decision while typing this chapter (I believe it's better for the overall story).  
_

* * *

A creaking floorboard somewhere in the room roused Gendry awake, but not enough that he wanted to open his eyes. The fog of sleep still thick in his mind, all he wanted, all he could think to want, was to feel Arya's warm body close to his. His arm reached for the other side of the bed but found nothing but the cold bedding.

Then there was the gritty sound of a shoe sliding over the floor and something low and muffled across the room. "Arya?" he mumbled and lifted his head slightly. It took far more effort than any other time; the weight of it seemingly doubled. During their shared night and morn, Arya pushed him to his physical limits as though she were making up for time lost or trying to load everything into a short future. Whichever it was, it drained him.

He heard the muffled sound again. "Arya?" He tried to use more force in his voice this time as he lifted his torso fully from the bed only to flop over onto his back. Willing his eyes to open, he stared at the graying ceiling-boards for a heartbeat before gathering enough strength to sit upright. There were nothing but shadows—his east-facing room had so little light later in the day—but it was the large shadow close to the door that grabbed his attention. It was too large to be Arya, though.

As it came into focus, Gendry could make out Thonas's form standing at an awkward angle, and there were legs wrapped around his hips, a hand clawed around his throat while an arm wrapped around his sword arm. The form around him shifted in a very fluid motion, every so often readjusting for the most effective position. Gendry had once seen this before while watching a snake squeeze the life out of a field mouse. At the moment, Thonas looked very much like that field mouse.

The muffled sound was Thonas trying to call his name as Arya choked the life out of him with her hand, her body squeezing him further. She was stronger than she looked; Gendry could attest to that.

"Arya, what are you doing?"

In the shadows, her grey eyes were that of ice, cold and lethal, as she stared at the man she was wrapped around. It wasn't until those icy greys focused on Gendry that they thawed and warmed.

"Your 'friend' tried to sneak into your room." She tightened her grip around his trachea. "I want to know what he wants before I decide I don't care and kill him on the spot."

"Don't," Gendry pleaded as he tried to lessen the panic in his voice while holding out his hands to her as one would to calm an agitated beast. "Thonas comes for me if I'm not in the main hall by the time the sun heads westward."

Again, she reminded him of that snake as she relaxed her entire body around Thonas until she withdrew completely, but unlike the field mouse, Thonas was still alive. She simply walked away from him as though she didn't have his life in her hands only moments ago. As soon as she was on the bed, Gendry took the blanket bunched at his thighs and covered her with it quickly.

His friend massaged the rasp from his abused throat, "Your woman is not a simple serving wench." Thonas eyed her with just as much suspicion as she returned and then some. Gendry also noticed how his sword hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

"You have no idea, Thonas," Gendry said almost reverently as his lips brushed against her shoulder, hoping to defuse her lingering agitation. Thonas was angry with her and had every right to be. With a good reason for entering the room, he didn't deserve to almost have his throat ripped out. But he had to calm Arya before the situation escalated to where one of their lives was threatened again. Gendry was almost sure it would be Thonas's.

"You've kept Gendry's secret this long. Why?" she asked, changing the subject as though the last one bored her. The man and his focus immediately shifted to Gendry.

"You told the wench your name?"

Gendry shook his head, his brows upward in defeat. Arya turned toward him, regarded him for a moment. Was it his imagination or did her lips twitch into a half smile before her focus returned to Thonas? Gendry couldn't help but smile in response, and his friend seemed shocked, noticeably shocked to see a smile on Gendry's face. Had he never seen him smile before? Gendry realized he might not have.

"Who are you?" Thonas eyed Arya with greater suspicion.

"Answer my question."

"You wanna know why I keep his secret? Because I don't want 'em to die. Now, you answer mine!"

Arya leaned into Gendry, her shoulder and part of her back nestled into his chest, and it was only then that he realized how rigid her body had been before. "Then you and I have that in common, it seems."

Thonas's brows furrowed at that.

"Should anyone of note know my true name and what was done here, they would have yet another reason to kill him."

Thonas folded his arms and quirked an eyebrow. "The only reason anyone would give a rat's arse about which woman he fucked would be if she was highborn," he scoffed. Arya's expression was hard and unchanged, but Gendry couldn't help that his hands began to shake minutely, his leg numbed as it started to fall asleep which caused him to move for a more comfortable position, and his breath quickened. It didn't occur to him until Thonas's arms unfolded and dropped down to his sides that all of those movements translated into uncomfortable fidgeting, telling the man how true his words were.

"Highborn?"

Arya pushed the blanket away from her, lifted herself from the bed, and walked toward the center of the room where her shift and dress lay. There was no hint of modesty or embarrassment of her nakedness as she did so. Thonas's gaze slid from her head down to her toes, lingering in various places until Gendry cleared his throat loudly to get the man's attention. It was enough. The man's gaze shot upward toward the ceiling.

"Lady Arya of House Stark," she said as she pulled her shift up over her hips, her waist, then up and over her breasts. Her arms slid through the armholes until she was fully clothed. Thonas had the good graces, this time, to only look at her then.

The man only chuckled to himself. "Those lands've heard that one before. That house seems to attract pretenders. You've got a pair on you, don'cha woman? But the Dragon Queen won't be fooled."

"It's true, Thonas." Gendry stood and wrapped the blanket around his hips then sat on the edge of the bed. "I knew Arya since her father was executed. She was smuggled out of King's Landing as a recruit for the Night's Watch." His voiced cracked at her family's name when he added, "This is Arya Stark."

Mirth melted from the man's face. "Oh, Hells, Gendry. What have you done?" Finally, the truth sank in fully, and the man slumped forward as he obviously felt the weight of the situation. "They'll have your head for this."

"No," Arya said as she finished the last lacings of her dress. "No one will know we've shared a bed."

"Horseshit!" Thonas spat in her direction. "How many downstairs saw the two of you together, go off alone?"

"Nobles care very little for the ramblings of the drunk and smallfolk. And if anyone of note were to speak of it, I will decorate my neck with their freshly cut tongue." Thonas stood silent, and Gendry wondered if his friend felt the same chill he did run down his spine. This was no idle threat, and there was no doubt Arya meant and would carry out every word.

She made her way behind Thonas to the door and Gendry could have sworn he saw the man take a step away from her. Her eyes drifted Gendry's way and smirked. "I'll bring us tea to drink while we plan for what's ahead." With that, she was out of the room and the door closed behind her. That's when Thonas, who'd been frozen in his spot, rushed to face Gendry.

"That's no noblewoman. That's a bloody assassin. Did you see how she had me trapped like a rat?" Gendry had to fight back the smile as he mentally corrected, "field mouse." Aloud, he simply responded, "She's both."

"Are you sure that's the lost Stark girl?"

He only had to nod. Thonas knew the answer, but all of what it meant made him not want to believe it. Perhaps when they first told him that she was highborn, his friend thought she was from one of the lower houses, one nestled in the wilds somewhere, but to fathom that such a woman as Arya was from what was one of the more prominent houses was hard to grasp. It was hard for Gendry to reconcile when they were younger, but he didn't have that problem now. Highborn, lowborn, greater or lower houses, it didn't matter. She would always be Arya.

Thonas pulled the chair from the far wall and dragged it over the floor with little care of how much noise the scraping caused. He settled it directly in front of Gendry and took a seat, looking very serious. "Did you know it was her when you brought her here and bedded her?"

"No. I hadn't seen her for years, and she was so little then."

"Did she know it was you?" Gendry just nodded. "Was it like this between the two of you back then?"

Gendry shook his head emphatically, almost insulted because he never saw his little friend that way, but then lost some of his vigor as he thought about it. He wondered what went through Arya's mind, then and now. When they were younger, he always got the hint that her feelings for him were more than friends trying to survive, but with Arya, it was so hard to tell what she was thinking.

"What does she want with you?"

"I think she just wanted someone to force her to face her past."

Thonas raised an eyebrow to that. "She couldn't do that without sharing a bed?" Gendry remembered her answers to a similar question when he asked her, but none of them explained why doing what they did had to be a part of her plan. Gendry thought to ask her the question again, and was determined not to allow her to skirt the answer when he did.

But it was Thonas waiting for an answer, and no matter how much he trusted his friend, what happened between him and Arya in this room was no one's business but theirs. "That's none of your concern," he told his friend just as the door to his room opened.

Arya carried a tray with a kettle, three cups, and a small bowl of herbs. She didn't pay any attention to either man as she set it on the table and began to pinch the herbs into two of the cups then steeped them with the hot water. She then slid her fingers into the fold of her dress and came out with a large pinch of herbs from what Gendry guessed was a pouch sewn into her dress to put in the third cup and steeped it with hot water.

She handed a cup to Thonas who seemed wary of the offering but took it regardless. Gendry took his without a word, but both men watched as she drank her tea, her different tea. "Are you trying to kill us, woman?" Thonas asked her as he held out his cup.

The corners of her mouth curled into a slight smile just as she'd brought her cup to her lips again. She then offered him her cup. "Would you rather my tea? It's good for your moon's blood. Makes it come without fail."

Thonas sneered and turned away to gulp down his tea, and Gendry was sure the man wished it was a stronger drink. Gendry, however, couldn't help but stare at it, at her. Was that to keep from getting a child in her, his child in her? Arya's eyes darted in his direction and a hint of red crept into her cheeks to confirm it. At least that was something he didn't have to worry about in all of this.

"So, what now?" Thonas rested his wrists on his knees and looked intently at Arya, watching her take a seat beside Gendry on the edge of the bed. She sipped more of her tea as though in no rush to answer him before she finally spoke.

"I have to see my sister. She's the Lady of Casterly Rock, the oldest of what's left of us Starks, and I want to know what we have to do to rebuild Winterfell."

"Casterly Rock, you say?" Thonas rubbed his chin with the back of his free hand. "Well, there's no doubt," he said then jutted his jaw in Gendry's direction, "he'll follow you till kingdom come, and someone's gotta keep him safe. Besides, I'm sure there's plenty of work for a sword in Lannisport."

Arya nodded in agreement, and Gendry felt the strangest feeling that the two had quietly and quickly come to some agreement, some understanding without him…about him.

* * *

_As always, I want to thank each reviewer, follower, and favorter. Yes, I'm making that a word :) For me, writing feels like talking in a dark, lonely room, making it feel as thought I'm talking to myself most of the time. So all feedback in all forms makes it feel a little less lonely, like I'm not the only person in the room. Thank you.  
_


	7. On the Goldroad

The sun dipped below the treeline marking the end of a day's travel on horseback. Gendry's rump was sore, and the constant movement of his horse was starting to wear on his groin. For yet another time, he gave himself a small respite by shifting his weight from the seat of the saddle to his stirrups, but what he looked forward to, what he considered the best part of their travels, was making camp and being free of the beast if only for the night.

At his one side, Thonas seemed a little more at ease than him, but only a little. The man's constant shifting atop his saddle was the only evidence of some discomfort, though. At his other side, Arya showed no sign of tiring. In fact, she seemed more at ease from the moment she climbed onto her rounsey.

King's Landing was a fortnight in their rear, and they would reach Lannisport by the next evening at their pace. At least they no longer spent their nights with Arya and Thonas glaring at one another at the fire as though sizing an enemy.

"It's time to make camp," she said as she stopped her horse and dismounted with one hop. Gendry felt as though someone had lifted a weight from his shoulders at her words. He would be on firm ground for a few hours and fill his belly with something other than water and those leathery sticks of salted meats, not to mention other things to look forward to during their camp.

Thonas immediately swung one leg over and slid down the side of his horse whereas Gendry was so sore and his limbs so stiff, he removed himself from the beast with care. The chestnut rounsey snorted, obviously as relieved to be rid of him as Gendry was to be of it.

As they led their horses off the road and over steep hills of stones and rock, no one said a word, but Gendry could feel the excitement from Arya like waves of heat. Her sister, the last of her family, was little more than a day's ride away. He envied her in that she had some piece, some reminder, of her life before.

He was Arya's family—they both accepted that truth before they left King's Landing—but this was her connection to a time before him, before her father's death or the horrors on the Kingsroad those years ago. Lady Sansa knew the Arya more trusting of the world around her, the Arya without death in her wake. He wondered what Arya's life would have been if none of it happened, if she'd been raised by her parents and family intact. What would her life have been without him?

What would his life have been without her? As far as he could tell, their fates were entwined as soon as her father discovered King Joffrey's true father. If it had never happened, if he'd never been shipped to the Night's Watch and stayed under the instruction of Tobho Mott, where would he have been at this very moment?

The answer left a bad taste in his mouth. He would have found work, perhaps open a smithy of his own, settle down with a woman, and end up with young ones under foot. As a boy, those things were afterthoughts in the list of things he wanted in life. Not that he wanted much in life back then, but that's what smallfolk were expected to want, to fulfill these things in order to lead an accomplished life. Nobles weren't the only ones with expectations influencing their lives.

He tried to picture himself coming home to a woman that didn't have grey eyes and brown hair that curled about the edges, whose very being didn't hint of danger and a quick death if provoked. No, Gendry couldn't see this other life, this other Gendry whose goals were nothing more than staying safe and doing what was expected of him, drifting along life with no desire to rock the boat. It was only these last days since Arya returned to him did he realize he hadn't truly lived before her.

Arya unpacked their sleeping rolls while Thonas started the fire with the wood Gendry gathered, a routine fully established from the beginning of their journey. Another constant was after their last meal of the day when Arya glanced his way and said, "We need more firewood."

This routine of theirs was far more to his liking. She walked away from their camp with a blanket slung over her shoulder and her hips swaying very womanly in her roughspun breeches, and Gendry's eyes followed her for a moment before the rest of his body had. Behind him, he heard Thonas muttering under his breath. The man had thought their nightly excursion was knee-slappingly funny the first night, amusing a few nights thereafter, but being left alone every night had worn thin on him before the first sennight.

Past the rocky, sloped ground near their camp, it was peculiar how Arya could always find a section of flat land with lush new tufts of grass so easily. Gendry leaned against an old tree, its trunk nearly as thick as him, and watched her kneel and unfold the blanket, spreading it out carefully.

She'd grown attached to the damned thing. Before they left his room in Flea Bottom for good, she'd taken one look at the raggedy, old piece of wool and, as though something about it had just occurred to her, she snatched it from the bed and folded it with such precision and care one would have thought it was expensive, supple leather.

Not that he could blame her when he thought long and hard about it. Admittedly, there were fond memories tied to the thing. It was beneath them when he took her maidenhead. It was around them as he learned that the woman who'd helped him overcome much of the fear and pain of his past, and his friend thought long dead were one in the same. It was in close proximity to every step of this new relationship of theirs, however strange, awkward or breath-taking those moments were.

Gendry couldn't stand by the tree and wait any longer. He knelt behind her, noticing her fingers had stopped pulling the blanket flat over the soil and grass. He slid the woolen material of her tunic just enough to expose a hint of her shoulder and let his tongue taste her before he pressed his lips to it. The taste of her skin made him think of a hearth fire, a warm blanket, a well-cooked meal, all overwhelming feelings of comfort and safety.

She turned her head to the side, toward him, and he felt her breath tickle his cheek as he continued to kiss her shoulder, inhaling the scent of her hair as he worked his way toward the nape of her neck.

Always lacking patience, Arya twisted her body so that she came face to face with him and crashed her lips against his, her body slammed against him and almost knocked him back into the pebbled ground. This was their usual pace, her pace: heated, hungry, wild. He had no complaints during their previous times together, but for some reason, this night, Gendry wanted to savor what was between them.

He held her shoulders and made some distance between their bodies, and she stared at him questioningly for a moment before he pulled her to him and kissed her, softly. His lips tasted her lower lip, and she didn't respond, perhaps waiting to see where the break in fire would take them. He then tasted her upper lip and felt her flick her tongue and nip at his lower lip with a mixture of frustration and curiosity. Then she drew her body closer to him with need.

Before she was tempted to speed things along again, he pulled back and looked at her, really looked at her. The hair at the top of her head was swept loosely into a leather thong as the hair at the back cascaded freely, ending in the slightest curl. Wisps and tendrils had worked their way out from the sides and framed her face perfectly. All of it sleek and soft and always inviting him to nuzzle into it and breathe deeply, nothing like the choppy mess of hair years ago.

Her skin was slightly weathered and tanned, obviously abused from the sun beating down on her from sunup to sundown, whatever in the hells she'd been doing in Braavos. Still, it was soft and smooth to the touch, and Gendry cupped his hands along her jaw to feel the skin but to also lift her face to his. She'd been avoiding his eyes when they were alone together these last few nights of their journey, looking at any other part of his body or closed completely, and he wouldn't allow it this night.

This night, he wanted to see her, to really see her, and he wanted to be seen by her.

Her eyes lingered on his lips, but she slowly made her way to face him eye to eye. The grey in them was the color of rainclouds, soft and light. It wasn't often in all of the time that he'd known her that they were this tender, only recently…when they were alone. In them, along with the change in the set of her jaw, the dissipating tension around her eyes, the way her lips parted as though giving a small gasp, she was reacting to something he couldn't piece together.

"Gendry?" she breathed his name, and it made his groin tighten, his cock pulse, his heart thump in his chest. It was a question, but the vulnerability in her voice was telling him something. The Seven only knew what that was.

Something definitely changed within her. He guessed that she finally understood what he wanted, but that would be some feat as _he_ wasn't entirely sure what it was that he wanted. All he knew was that he didn't want to rush this night of theirs.

She allowed him to pull her tunic up and over her head and upstretched arms without fuss. Their other times, she would practically rip her clothes from her body, and would shoot him a warning glare if he didn't do the same within an allotted time.

With care, he removed every bit of clothing from her to appreciate her body as he hadn't had the chance to do before, always too distracted, too overwhelmed, too weary from exertion, and eased her back to the blanket beneath them.

Little things escaped his notice that were now visible to him, like the scars along the tops of her feet. Unlike the other scars scattered along her body, these were unevenly shaped and just a little darker in color around the edges. Gendry knew the telltale signs of burns.

There were so many more scars than he was previous aware of. Scars that wouldn't have been noticeable from a distance or even a glance close up, but now that he had the time to look at her, he saw each one and wondered about the stories they could tell. Would he even want to know those stories?

He traced the scars, flat or puckered, with his fingers. Along her ankle was one about the size of his thumbnail, and along her left shin was one, long and smooth. And then there was the one thin, long scar on the side of her right thigh. It was so thin it was no wonder he'd miss it before. Four others matched it on her hip and belly, one above and two below her navel. These seemed fresher than the others, only healed in months rather than years. What bothered him most was that these had the look of a slash from a sword, of what could have been life-threatening when dealt.

After all of the scars he'd counted in his exploration, it warmed him when he noticed a small freckle below and to the left of her left breast. It wasn't a scar, it wasn't a story, it was just Arya, and he got to see it when no other had.

That thought stirred him to remove his own clothes. He checked her readiness which elicited a moan from her as her eyes fluttered close, and he place himself between her legs. In truth, there was no need to check; he'd seen the evidence glisten along her thighs and the curls between them, but his pride pushed him to feel the proof of how much she wanted him, how much his lady wanted the bastard son of a dead king who had nothing to offer her but his measly life...and this.

"I want to feel you inside me, Gendry," she whispered as her hands felt the grass outside the boundaries of their blanket. "I want…I want…" she said as she writhed beneath him impatiently, almost as though at a loss for words, until she settled for one that seemingly explained it all, "Gendry." She said his name somewhere between a moan and whimper that was enough for him as he aligned his body to hers. He slid his cock up and down her slit enough to coat himself with her moisture and slid into her until he felt her envelop him slightly, then withdrew. Again, he pushed into her, a little deeper this time and pulled himself out, enjoying the teasing friction.

When he entered her again, he didn't stop until he was fully sheathed inside her.

Her maidenhead had been gone for over a fortnight, and there was no pain during the couplings anymore, but Arya told him that the first time he entered her in the night took some time to adjust, to accommodate him. They'd learned that a slow beginning was all they needed.

Before he began his rhythm, though, he needed something else. He willed her to look at him again, for her eyes to meet his as he thrust into her. Their eyes locked, and he cupped her breast in one hand while supporting himself above her with the other. The smooth, rounded skin was so warm and full in his hand, and he couldn't help but savor thumbing her firm nipple that was as hard as a gemstone.

The feel of her in his hand, her legs cradling his hips, her hands clawed at his back with nails digging into his skin, her chest heaving against his, her body, warm, wet and enveloping him, and the steady focus of her grey eyes was enough to drive him mad. Or at the very least render this joining as brief as their very first time.

His groin tightened, and he tried to prolong the inevitable with thoughts of the old septas that cared for him after his mother died, just before Tobho Mott had come for him with an apprenticeship paid in full. They were bitter, prune-faced women that could soften even Thonas's ardor, they vanished from his mind like smoke when Arya lifted her hips to meet each of his thrusts and whispered in his ear, "Gendry, I'm yours."

The tightening in his groin reached its limit and released like an explosion. He couldn't stop it or even wanted to stop it. He couldn't figure out what he needed from her, but it seemed she did. He wanted to know that she was his. They didn't have many nights left to be together in each other's arms before she revealed herself to her sister and all of Westeros. In addition, Arya had mentioned nights ago that her sister would want her to marry soon, for the added security of her house. She would have to marry another man, and Gendry would have to watch by the wayside as her lord husband bestowed affection freely, as she was obligated to acquiesce to his affections.

But she was his, and no matter who her sister arranged for her to marry, no matter which man won the privilege to stand beside her and hold her freely, Gendry held that portion of her soul that the now faceless man could never touch.

The abdominal muscles contracted and the thrusts had become shallow and lost all sense of rhythm as he spilled his seed inside her, then collapsed atop her. Arya cradled him close to her body and Gendry curled into her arms. He had to work very hard to push back the water accumulated in his eyes when he couldn't shake the feeling that this was a farewell of sorts.

* * *

Upon their return to camp, they found Thonas cradling a jug of his favorite ale from Flea Bottom. No doubt a gift from one of his lovers. He eyed them with a hint of disgust, or even jealousy that he couldn't be in the arms of that very lover at the moment. Arya ate the rest of her meal quietly and quickly, then slumped onto the fur rolled out onto a roughspun blanket that she shared with Gendry. In two beats, she was asleep and snoring softly.

Thonas eyed him up and down then gave him a nod of approval. Gendry felt the rush of embarrassment; he didn't deserved it since he'd finished long before Arya could, and she wanted nothing more than to hold him when he tried to satisfy her in other ways, ways he'd learned during their travel.

Gendry glanced over at her and noticed her arms and legs twitching like he'd seen dogs do, chasing rabbits and squirrels in their dreams. He chuckled to himself wondering if _she_ were chasing rabbits and squirrels in her sleep.

"Thank you for coming with us," he said to his friend. Thonas nodded in acknowledgment as though traveling for a fortnight was no bother and asked while tipping the top of the jug in Arya's direction, "I just wonder what'll you do when the Lady Assassin's welcomed back into the riches of noble life?"

Gendry took a stick, one meant for the kindling and far too thin for their roaring fire, and scratched at the pebbled covered ground in front of him. He didn't need Thonas to remind him of his predicament. "Look for work near her. I can't be without her again, Thonas."

"Aye, but what'll you do when you can't have nights like these? When some lord has his mitts around her, pawing at her in front a' ya? Or when her belly is round and heavy with his babe, and all ya can do it bow y' head?"

Gendry felt sick. He felt woozy. The thought of some lord getting a child in her never entered his mind, and he started feeling that small comfort he found in her arms crumbling to dust inside him. That it was really nothing more than a silly dream had by a stupid orphan boy from Flea Bottom. And for an instant, he had the same thought he'd had those years ago: she couldn't be his family, she'd be his lady. His gaze drifted in the direction of her sleeping form again, her lips parted slightly and her expression soft and vulnerable. He'd seen her this way awake, but he was almost certain he was the only one who could boast such a privilege. He'd never wished to be a lord, nor even recognized or legitimized as the bastard of King Robert—he hated the world of the highborn—but for an instant, he imagined himself as a lord, coming home to Arya with a belly swollen with his child.

He nestled into their makeshift bedding, fighting her for a shred of blanket for warmth and cuddled behind her protectively. In her sleep, she breathed, "Sansa, no," and his dread and anguish followed him into a particularly grim dream of lords as time-worn and cold as Stannis Baratheon leading her to their bedchamber.

* * *

_If you find any mistakes, feel something is off, or just want to let me know that I'm doing a decent job, by all means let me know. If you don't feel comfortable leaving a review but want to tell me what you think, I welcome PMs. Thanks for reading and giving the story a try._


	8. A Good Sister

_A big thanks to everyone reading the story, and a great big shout out to all of the followers, "favoriters," and reviewers_.

* * *

Lannisport wasn't as large as King's Landing, but it was just as bustling when they arrived before the sun dipped completely below the horizon of the Sunset Sea. With so many bodies milling about, there was no room to ride their horses, requiring them to find the nearest stable.

Thonas volunteered quickly to find and stable their beasts, but Gendry had the feeling the man's eagerness to be so helpful had more to do with him reaching his limit for their company. He couldn't blame him; the jug of ale could only bring so much comfort in the night.

With that taken care of, Gendry's next order of business was to secure them a couple of rooms in one of the inns. He didn't want Arya's sister's first sight of her to be dark circles about her eyes and her body and clothes covered in road filth. Barely able to admit it to himself, a sliver of him hoped that presenting a healthy, well cared for Arya to her sister would impress the woman and garner favor. Favor for what, he had no idea. Of all the tales Arya told of her sister, the Lady Sansa didn't seem the type to condone what was between them under any circumstance.

The inn they chose was small and didn't look like much, but it seemed clean and offered tubs for bathing, which were what both of them wanted badly. The innkeeper gave them a wary eye until Arya threw him four dragons without hesitation, pulled from a purse obviously filled with more. It was no wonder the man fell all over himself to shuffle his wife out from the back rooms and told her to provide them with a hot meal and ale.

The wife less enthusiastically sat them at a table with enough seating for three or more people, and dropped two steaming plates of roast pigeon and boiled potatoes in front of them, which hit the spot after four and ten days of travel food. By the time Thonas had returned to them, Gendry's bird was but bones, picked clean.

It took a moment to realize Thonas hadn't sat with them, but stood tense as though there was something he had to say but couldn't. "Thonas? What is it?" Gendry asked, and Arya's focus shifted up to the man's face.

"I heard from the stable master that the city's in mourning."

Gendry looked around and noticed a distinct lack of boisterousness, something he'd assumed was simply the way of the city. "What are they mourning?"

Thonas shifted his weight from one foot to the other and eyed Arya for an instant, but couldn't look at her for more than a heartbeat. "Seems the Lady Lannister died in the night…" he trailed off as he noticed Arya's eyes widen and her posture stiffen. "…birthing a babe."

Arya's chest heaved as though she couldn't take in enough air, and she whispered to herself, "Sansa. No."

Arya stood and grabbed Thonas's tunic so quickly that she caught him off-guard and pulled him down to her height, to her face. "Where's my horse?"

"Down the main road and a left at the silk merchant." The man's voice cracked, still startled by her quick reaction.

Arya released him and was out of sight before he finished the last word, and the two men rushed out behind her. By the time they'd reached the stables, Arya shot out of it bareback on her horse causing both men to dive to the side and out of the way.

In her wake, a very irate stable master emerged from the stables yelling curses, red faced and stomping his feet with the belief that he'd been robbed. If not for their circumstances, the scene might have been comical.

Gendry eyed Thonas, and his friend gave a slight nod, a silent agreement that he would calm the poor stable master while Gendry followed Arya, who was already down the road that led to Casterly Rock.

Unfortunately, Gendry's horse had already been unsaddled, and not being as skilled at riding as Arya, he wouldn't dare chance a ride without a saddle, fairly certain he wouldn't make it out of Lannisport. Thonas bargained for a horse still with its saddle in exchange for ten dragons with an agreement that they would get eight back upon Gendry's return. That was the last of the conversation Gendry had heard before he kicked the horse into a full gallop.

An unfamiliar horse and an unskilled rider, his chances of the horse throwing him was only slightly less with a saddle than without, but he shoved his fears down his gullet for Arya. She was in pain, and he had to be with her. He followed with all the speed the beast could muster, but she had such a lead that he knew she would make it to the Rock long before he could.

It was true; she had arrived long before him, but even still, he found her at the gate, her horse meandering around in search of grass to eat as she stared at or beyond the fortress. Was she trying to see through stone, hoping that what Thonas heard was a falsehood, a misunderstanding? No, something in her felt the truth of it, that the last of her family had passed in the night.

Gendry quietly slid down from his horse and walked with it to stand at her side.

"I could have seen her, Gendry. If only I'd come one day sooner, I could have said goodbye. I never get to say goodbye."

He wanted so badly to take her hand in his, but he couldn't. They stood at the gates of Casterly Rock, and the only way for her to see the remains of her sister was to reveal herself to the Lord Lannister. This was the first step in her return as a highborn woman, and she couldn't be seen holding hands with a lowborn man. It would shame her and sentence him to imprisonment or worse on the first day.

Arya walked up to the gate, and when she reached but a stone's throw from it, the men standing guard at the gate's tower called for her to halt. She did as they bid, but eyed them as though working in her mind how to get what she wanted with the least amount of bloodshed.

"I wish to enter," she said to them.

"What business have you inside these walls?" one asked her. Without missing a beat, Arya answered, "To see my sister, Lady Sansa."

The other man laughed while the one speaking to her just rolled his eyes before turning his back to her. Arya smiled. It wasn't warm, but it was genuine and hinted that what she had planned would not end well for one or both men.

One waved his hand out dismissively and shouted, "Leave, woman! And take your man with you."

"How about a deal?" she asked, and it seemed to get their attention, or at least the attention of one of them. "One of you try and make me leave. If you best me, we will both leave quietly. If I win, you will take me to Lord Lannister."

She had the attention of both men, now, as they laughed until one managed to wheeze out, "…thinks we're simple minded…the wind could take her…" The other man, laughing decidedly less with an eye in Gendry's direction added, "And she'd have her man beat whoever was stupid enough to try."

"He will not interfere. If he does, shoot him with an arrow." And with those last words, Arya turned around and gave Gendry a pointed look, telling him to stay out of the fight she might have with one of them. She turned back to the guards with a smirk. "Both of you are afraid of a simple, little woman besting you?"

The man laughing the hardest reached for his sword, but Arya called to him, "No weapons. Hand to hand only." She quickly pulled up her dress to her upper thigh—the eyes of both guards bulged at her bold immodesty—and pulled the knife from the leather thong she kept strapped to it. With some flourish, she tossed the small weapon to the side and out of reach. Gendry didn't like it when both continued to leer at her exposed leg.

The same man disappeared quickly, only to reappear at the recently opened gate. He dropped his sword and knife to the ground at the threshold and approached the two of them with a wary eye to Gendry. One more glance in his direction from Arya, and Gendry stepped back several paces with his horse in tow.

The man hunched his shoulders making his overall form seem larger while he stepped along an invisible perimeter around Arya whose demeanor hadn't changed a bit. In fact, one would think she was bored with her predicament to look at her. It didn't slip Gendry's notice that the man also took a long look at her from head to toe, and didn't like what the man was surely thinking as he licked his lips with a wide grin.

But he continued to circle Arya, and she stood her ground with indifference, causing somewhat of a stalemate of who would attack first. The one to finally break it was the man when he lunged forward, his body barreling toward her. He was taller and wider than Arya, and Gendry was sure he would knock her to the ground.

With such speed, Gendry barely saw the movement, the flat of her hand came up level to the guard's face, and before the man could touch her, the heel of her hand connected with his nose. She'd used his own momentum against him, and the force of the impact caused a cracking sound even Gendry could hear paces away.

The man staggered back and touched the tips of his fingers to his upper lip that was now covered in the blood flowing steadily from his nostrils.

Anger built in his eyes, his trembling hands, the forming sneer, until he roared "Wench!" and lunged for her again. This time, his fist connected with her jaw, and Arya stumbled back quite a few paces before stopping to crouch low to the ground.

The man took two steps in her direction, confident that this was only the beginning of his upper hand in their brawl, but before he could make it to her, she rushed at him and used her shoulder to ram into his body.

The guard must have thought along the same lines as Gendry, that Arya would aim for his waist, but instead she aimed for his lower hips. It effectively unbalanced him, and with a shoulder to the groin, he dropped to the ground with a loud thud, groaning and grabbing for his crotch. Arya didn't hesitate to straddle his torso, locking his arms between her legs as well, and began an assault of punches in rapid succession until it was clear the man would not rise. It wasn't even clear if he would regain his senses anytime soon.

She looked up at the other guard standing in the tower and waited for his next move. Slack-jawed and eyes agape, the man was dumbfounded for several moments before he looked down in back of him and waved a torch in their direction.

A contingent of guards formed at the gate; Gendry counted eight. Six surrounded Arya and Gendry, who'd made his way to her side at the sight of the guards, while a seventh lifted the bested man from the ground and through the gates.

For a heartbeat, Gendry wondered if these guards were sent to finish them, but when one prodded Arya in the direction of the gate, he felt some relief. There was still the possibility that they would be imprisoned, though.

A glance back and Gendry saw the eighth guard break from the rest to gather his and Arya's horses; he hadn't realized he'd left his horse to stand by Arya's side until he saw the thing walking toward Arya's horse.

They were led across the bailey to the lower bailey and finally into the Keep before Gendry could relax enough to be sure they would see the Lord Lannister rather than the dungeon of Casterly Rock.

Inside, the guards stopped them in a very large room with a high ceiling, and Gendry could only guess this was the Great Hall of Casterly Rock. The guards surrounded them when the Lord Lannister entered.

He was small, the size of a child, but his face bore evidence of not only a man, but one who'd seen battles in his past. Gendry had heard the man referred to as "The Imp" by drunken tongues and loose women, a description of a debaucherous, mischievous nature, but all Gendry could see in the man's demeanor was an observant gaze and a regal bearing.

He stood before them with his arms behind his back and eyed them carefully. It surprised Gendry that the man's gaze lingered on him just as much as Arya. She was the one, after all, who bested his guard and proclaimed herself to be his recently deceased wife's long lost sister.

The man's gaze finally settled on Arya, eying her from head to toe. "My guards tell me you created quite a commotion to see me."

"To see my sister, Lord Lannister."

"Your sister. Yes," he said with a hint of dark amusement while dropping his gaze for a moment in thought. "You proclaim yourself to be Arya Stark?"

"I do, Lord Lannister."

"And before me I do undoubtedly see a Stark face, but you must understand that there have been two very convincing pretenders since the time of Arya Stark's disappearance. It is also unfortunate that the person that could have settled this matter quickly is no longer with us." There was a strained look on the lord's face that vanished instantly.

"I understand, Lord Lannister."

"When my wife spoke of her sister, it was often to lament how contentious their relationship had been. On one occasion, the night before her father was arrested, they discussed her impending marriage to my nephew, an unfortunate arrangement in hindsight. At the time, she voiced her steadfast desire to wed him."

"Yes," Arya began, "Father wanted us to leave for Winterfell and end Sansa's betrothal. Sansa didn't want to leave. She wanted to marry Joffrey and be his queen, to give him 'golden lion' sons with blond hair that would be nothing like the stag king." Tyrion eyed Arya carefully, and then glanced in the direction of Gendry only to return to Arya as she finished her thought. "Those words have been the downfall of my house since."

Something lit in the man's eyes and softened in his face before he said his next words. "Welcome to Casterly Rock, Good Sister."

"Good Brother," Arya replied to him, the tension in her shoulders visibly dissipating, "may I see my sister, now?"

He only nodded, turned, and walked out of the Great Hall with Gendry and Arya following closely behind him. The guards were not far from them, only a few paces away, and it was clear the Lord of Casterly Rock may have accepted Arya's identity, but he didn't trust them.

The adjoining room was a small sept, the walls magnificently chiseled and painted and decorated with fine tapestries of golden haired heroes on their steeds and maidens swooning at the sight of them. At the opposite end of the room atop a raise platform lay a woman dressed in golden silk with her arms folded across her chest as though peacefully sleeping. Beside her resting place lay a bundle wrapped from top to bottom in golden cloth. Surrounding them were white pillar candles at various stages of melting.

Arya made her way up the stairs to the platform with Gendry close behind her; the guards stood at the foot of the stairs at Lord Lannister's command.

After all that Arya had told him of her sister's beauty, he was not prepared for the sight of this woman. This woman had scars etched across her face and skin as leathery as his riding breeches. He tried to imagine the disfigurements away, to see behind them the beauty Arya spoke of quite often, but it was difficult.

The sound of air being sucked into her chest drew his attention to Arya, and he was certain she hadn't expected her sister to look this way either. Her finger followed the path of a particularly long scar cut across her sister's left cheek. Her chest heaved and her nostrils flared before she sneered and turned to the Lord of Casterly Rock standing at the bottom of the stairs, his back to them and staring toward the entrance, at nothing in particular.

"Did you do this to her?" Arya asked him, and the man's attention snapped to her, his back stiffened and his neutral expression hardened into a scowl. Arya reworded her question so that it was less accusatory of their host. "Who did this to her?" Her softened position could have also been in response to a flicker of pain and sorrow that played across the lord's face for only an instant.

"Your sister, for a time, chose Lord Baelish as her guardian and protector. It was an unfortunate choice."

No more information was forthcoming as the Lord Lannister returned his gaze to the entrance of the sept; it was obvious that the last thing he wanted to look at was the remains of his family. It didn't matter; they didn't need any more information than what was before them, just looking at the body of the woman told a tale of harsh abuse.

Arya cupped her sister's cheek with reverent care and blinked back the tears Gendry could see threatening to work their way free. Softly, she said, "You should have seen her before, Gendry. She was so beautiful, with her auburn hair and Tully blue eyes, eyes clear as stream water. I always wished I was born with their color."

There was such a powerful need to hold her, but he resisted even though the Lord Lannister had his back turned to them. He wanted to tell her that her grey eyes were just as beautiful, that the spirit behind them made them even more glorious than any blue, but those privileges were no longer his the moment they stood at the gates of Casterly Rock.

When she spoke again, however, it was to the Lord Lannister, and her voice didn't match the gentleness or vulnerability of her words to him. "Where is he now?"

"Dead," The Lord Lannister focused on removing the gloves from his hands. "The Moon Door of the Eyrie."

He then turned his head toward them but not enough to face them completely. "I think…I would like to think, I made her happy for a time," he said as he seemed caught up in his own thoughts, and Gendry suddenly felt sympathy for the man when he remembered that he'd just lost his family. His wife and his child were dead and the day after such a blow, he learned his wife's long lost sister returned. He wondered if he would be able to stand so dignified under the same circumstances.

"Thank you for that," Arya said so gently it wasn't clear if the Lord Lannister heard her when he spoke next.

"She never believed you dead." The lord placed his hands behind his back, but still refused to look in their direction. "She always believed you would return stronger than when you left."

Arya smiled at that, but her eyes were constantly drawn back to her sister's face, studying each difference between what she remembered and what she saw before her.

"Take the time you need here. In the meantime," the Lord Lannister said as he began walking toward the exit of the sept, "I'll have rooms prepared for you and your companion, so that you can mourn your sister properly."

When Arya didn't speak—it was unknown if she'd heard him through her own thoughts—Gendry corrected, "We have another companion, Thonas, in Lannisport." He then remembered his courtesies, "M'lord."

The Lord Lannister was already moving to the door when he waved his hand in casual acknowledgement and quickly walked out of the sept. The man wanted to be anywhere but there, and Gendry couldn't blame him.

* * *

_So I hope all of you aren't too disappointed that there won't be an Arya/Sansa reunion. I never meant for there to be one, but I did figure that it was better character development for Arya to just miss seeing her sister alive to deal with those feelings rather than having already mourned and accepted her sister's death before the events of this story took place._

_Some other notes: Just keep in mind that you may see the terms "wife" and "his woman" used at different times. I'm going by what I know of medieval custom (not much) that marriage was only used by nobles and the wealthy as a legal way to designate heirs for their property and/or titles. So the poor smallfolk had no need of marriage but would enter monogamous relationships much like civil unions of today.  
_

_Also, I'm not sure about the use of titles and how they're used, but in my story, it's determined by the level of familiarity (Lord Lannister, Lord Tyrion, Tyrion similar to Mr. Lannister, Mr. Tyrion, Tyrion).  
_

_Thanks for putting up with my fumblings. :)_


	9. A Good Brother

_As always, I want to thank everyone that gave this story a chance. I'd especially like to than all the reviewers, "favoriters," and followers out there. You guys remind me that I'm not just writing for my own amusement :)_

* * *

Arya sat by the side of her sister's body, leaned over and whispering secrets in the ear that could no longer hear. Gendry watched her from one of the seats near the foot of the platform stairs and wondered which secrets she shared.

It was a long while before Arya was done, and when they exited the sept, there were two servants waiting for them outside of the door. The bold one in a roughspun dress all but accosted Gendry, stepping in his way so that he couldn't continue to walking with Arya. "I'm to show you to your room," she said to him in a very commanding voice. Gendry took a moment to look at the other servant, her head bowed low and her hands clasped in front of her dress made of much finer material. That woman was undoubtedly a lady's maid and sent for Arya.

Ignoring the more aggressive servant, he turned his full attention to Arya and stood close to her, his body bending to her height and his lips but a hair's breadth from her ear. "Go with her and get some sleep. I'm here whenever you need me."

Her eyes were wide and dull, the light that was Arya had been dimmed, and she stared at everything around her as though uncomprehending, but after his words, she turned toward the woman waiting for her and followed down a hall with more fine tapestries and paintings.

The aggressive woman led him down a hall that was bare stone and barely lit, most likely servants' passage. The end of their walk was the door to a room very much like the room he'd had at the inn in Flea Bottom: small, sparsely decorated, and the apparent lumps in the sheets left no question that the bed was stuffed with straw rather than feathers. Too large to be servants' quarters, more than likely, it was for unimportant guests, but guests nonetheless. He took some comfort that Arya would have a better room, one befitting a lady and relative of Lord Lannister. He envisioned her room to be large with a canopied featherbed and decorations of golden haired heroes and maidens much like the decorations surrounding the body of the Lady Lannister.

The only thing that lessened his comfort was that it only reminded him that she was a part of that world, long removed from it, but still a part of it. A world he would never belong to or ever want to belong to.

Gendry smoothed out the sheets and blankets on his bed and marveled that it may have been stuffed with straw, but it was the most comfortable straw he'd ever felt.

It wasn't long before there was a knock at his door. The servant had told him that she'd return with a washbasin, but when he opened it, Arya stood there with her maid behind her. The maid, with her sallow complexion and body visibly trembling, seemed very nervous, and Gendry wondered if Arya threatened her. The fire burning brightly again behind Arya's eyes was even more of indication of that. More than likely, she'd asked where he was, and the maid refused to show her.

She stood there stoically as ever, but looking closer, he could see the tears threatening and the slight tremble of her hands. Without a word, he pulled her close to his body and slammed his door shut in the face of the maid.

Arya melted into him, molded her body to his, grabbing fistfuls of his tunic just to hold herself up. She was exhausted, emotionally and physically, and he scooped her into his arms with one swoop. She clung to him, even as he placed her on his bed, her fists held onto him solidly. He lay close to her body as his arms enveloped her, and her face buried in his tunic. The sniffles turned to whimpers and the whimpers to wracking sobs. She wasn't crying for just her sister, but the entire family of her youth. They were gone. She really was the last Stark.

There was another knock at his door, and her maid entered his chamber. As soon as she saw them in each other's arms, in the same bed, her eyes widened and her head bowed low. There was a deep red blooming up her neck, along her jaw, reaching into her cheeks fully. So much for his life and Arya's reputation. The woman would surely tell her lord of this, and Gendry's head would just as surely decorate some spike come morning.

"Pardon me," she said timidly, "but my lord asks if you wish to join him for the evening meal."

Gendry gave her a forced smile of thanks for relaying the invitation. "We've already had our last meal of the day, and I believe m'lady isn't well."

She nodded once before backing away from them, keeping her head low, and left the room, closing the door behind her.

He pulled Arya even closer to him and kissed the crown of her head. "You're not alone, Arya. Remember that."

Her body shuddered against him, and her sobs began anew. When they ebbed, he asked her softly, "Do you want to leave this place? Head for Winterfell?"

On his chest, he felt her head move, but he couldn't tell if she was nodding or shaking it. He looked down at the same time she looked up at him. "No," she said as she pulled at the fistful of his tunic and held it close to her face. "I couldn't mourn my family properly before. I'll take at least a sennight to mourn them all properly, and then we'll leave for Winterfell."

Gendry nodded and rested his cheek on the crown of her head. Time passed, and Arya's breathing steadied. He heard the soft sounds of her sleeping in his arms before his eyelids grew heavy and sleep became inevitable. Just before he closed his eyes, he wondered how long they would be allowed to stay like this before he was pulled from her and separated from his head. Arya, in her sleep, snuggled even closer to him, and his last thought before sleep took him completely was "So be it."

* * *

There was a soft knock that woke Gendry, then the creak of his door. In the foggy haze of half sleep, he looked around and noticed the sun had risen fully. No one had come for his head, and he doubted that was the goal of whoever had just come through the door. If they were ready to take his head, why would they knock softly? Arya's maid stood in his room by the foot of the bed with her hands clasped before her and her head low as the night before. Arya shifted in his arms until she woke fully.

"My lord requests both your presence for the breaking of the fast. Baths will be prepared for you in your rooms."

Gendry nodded, and the woman left just as quietly as she entered.

The invitation wasn't like the night before; they weren't given a choice this time. The Lord of Casterly Rock wanted them for the meal and it was wise to appease their host. Also, it was made clear that their baths would be separate, that Arya was expected to leave his room.

He kissed the crown of her head, "Did you hear her? We have to break our fast with the Lord Lannister."

"I know," she said as she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, "but I can't leave you. They may take you away. I'm sorry I put you in danger."

It never occurred to him that the separate baths might be a ruse to separate them, to dispatch him out of sight of Arya. There was some comfort in that scenario, though. He didn't want her to see it; he didn't want her last sight of him to be his head rolling from his body.

Also, he had to grin at her reaction. "Well, if they come for me, then at least I know I was a comfort to m'lady in my last moments."

The creases in her brows deepened, and the fire stoked behind her eyes. "You're more than a comfort to me, Gendry!"

"Am I?" he asked quickly, seizing on her words, and her brows shot upward the instant she realized what she'd said. "Then what am I…m'lady?" He was teasing her, but that place deep inside that he dared not face wanted a particular answer that he knew he shouldn't want.

Just then, two male servants entered the room with a tub, followed by two more with large pails of steaming water. Arya's maid walked in behind them. "Come, my lady. Your bath will be in your chambers," the woman said as she gestured toward the door.

Arya stood from the bed and eyed the tub, then Gendry, and they shared the same thought: if the Lannister plan was to kill him anytime soon, why would they go through the trouble of heating water and bathing him first?

It was something in his favor, although, not a guarantee. Still, if they were going to kill him, he'd rather she weren't around. To assure her, he nodded his head with a smile and she left, however reluctant to do so.

He was left in his room alone and enjoyed the soak in the tub of gloriously warm water. His only regret was that wished he'd had a little more time to get an answer from her.

* * *

Breaking their fast with Lord Tyrion was a simple, informal affair. The Lord Lannister sat at the table with Thonas, and he didn't seem bothered in the least at the class difference at the same table. In fact, the lord seemed more amused by Thonas's hearty appreciation of the available food than anything. By the time Grendry arrived, Tyrion was sipping a cup of wine while Thonas shoveled eggs and ham into his gullet as though he were afraid someone may take the meal away from him. Gendry had to admit, the eggs and ham did look tasty.

Gendry took a seat one space away from the Lord Lannister, not feeling comfortable sitting any closer.

"Your friend here tells me your name is Gendry," The Lord Lannister said in the most friendly, jovial manner. Gendry nodded his head and stabbed a slab of ham, then transferred it to his plate.

"How do you know the Lady Arya?" the lord asked before taking another sip.

For a moment, Gendry thought to lie and tell the man that they'd recently met, but it only occurred to him just before he was about to utter his first word that the Lord Lannister had already gathered information from their brief exchange. When the lord mentioned Arya as lady, Gendry didn't flinch, thereby all but proving the knowledge of her social status wasn't new to him.

"We met on the Kingsroad, just after the death of her father."

At that, the lord sat up straight in his chair, and his full attention was on Gendry; his casual demeanor evaporated with his surprise. "You've known her for that long?"

Gendry suddenly realized that Thonas had stopped eating sometime during the conversation, and the man kept a steady eye on the lord.

"Yes," was his only response as he fill his mouth with a bite of ham and a sliver of egg.

Lord Lannister regained his composure and settled back in his chair, the wine glass back in his hand. "How far do you intend to accompany the lady? Do you have any skills to offer in her task to rebuild Winterfell?

"It almost sounds as though you're asking about my intentions, m'lord."

"Perhaps I am," he said before sipping his wine.

Feeling bold from his increasing irritation, Gendry couldn't help but ask, "Are you playing at being a stand-in for her father?"

"Father?" the lord said with a flourish of mock offense. "Do I look that old? Brother. A good brother, in fact. And as such, I must ask what you play at being to her."

Gendry felt his heart race and felt the increased moisture on his palms. What would he be? It was a question he'd avoided from the beginning of this new relationship of theirs, but the lord wanted to know and he was on the spot to tell.

"He does not play at being anything, Lord Lannister. Gendry is my friend and will be my smith," Arya said, her presence taking both men by surprise, as she sat in the chair between Gendry and the Lord Lannister. All three men appraised her, but it was Thonas and Gendry with their mouths agape and their eyes all but bulging at the sight of her. She was dress in a silk gown, a lady's gown, and her hair styled in such an elegant pattern, Gendry wondered how the maid managed to hold her still long enough to accomplish it.

Their stares came to an abrupt end when she gave them both a look of warning.

"Please, you are as my sister. From what I've seen of you, better than my sister, in fact. Call me Tyrion." After she nodded, he added with his gaze sliding in Gendry's direction. "And a smith, you say?"

All three nodded. "Well, it seems Winterfell is already ahead." Those words were enough for Thonas to go back to his food and Arya to fill her plate.

All remained quiet for a time as everyone ate their meal. However, a little too often for his taste Gendry caught the Lord Lannister staring at him, his fingers drumming absentmindedly on the table as though trying to solve some unknown puzzle in his mind. Gendry continued his meal as though he hadn't noticed the lord's scrutiny, but there was no shaking how the man's eyes seemed to reach right through him.

The first to finish his meal, Lord Tyrion refilled his cup with wine and slumped in his chair and his full attention on Arya. "I haven't told a soul of your return, but the queen will learn of it, regardless."

Arya nodded and returned her attention to her food without a word.

"Although, I doubt she will have the time and focus for the return of a Stark when she has other preoccupations, such as her wedding."

This piqued Arya's interest, but only barely as she asked, "Wedding?" then promptly took a mouthful of egg.

"Ah, yes," Lord Tyrion began as though sharing a most boring tale. "The Dragon Queen has finally chosen her king. Stannis Baratheon."

Gendry couldn't help it; the idea of his uncle as king of all of Westeros and that red woman whispering into his ear invaded his thoughts, and he sucked in air a little too loudly to not be heard by those at the table.

"It's a good match, politically," Lord Tyrion continued as though he hadn't heard Gendry's reaction, although the side glance in Gendry's direction hinted otherwise. "Westeros has been divided by those loyal to the Targaryens and those loyal to the Baratheons for too long. This clears that up a bit neatly, don't you think?" he asked Arya.

Arya swallowed her food and gave her full attention to the Lord Tyrion. "If she wishes to marry such a man, that's her choice, as stupid as it may be."

"Ah, Good Sister," Tyrion began with a sudden increase in the intensity of his eyes. "For those of us of noble blood, the matter of marriage is not so simple as choice."

Arya's focused on the lord, matching his intensity, the underlying meaning of Lord Tyrion's statement very obvious to them all. Even Thonas stopped chewing and looked up from his plate long enough to take in the statement.

"Yes," Arya said, her demeanor softening as she dabbed her napkin her the corners of her mouth—her lady-like etiquette Gendry had never known her to possess. "I've heard of the lack of choice for you and my sister, Good Brother."

"We do what we must to survive and to do what is best for our house and family." His put some emphasis on his last words and his eyes narrowed as though he were not only looking at her, but looking into her. "But this conversation is best for another time. You're welcome to stay for as long as you wish, Good Sister."

The remaining discussions at the table could cause no conflict and were mostly of the weather and the condition of Winterfell, which by the accounts of the Lord Lannister was in a piteous shape. Arya set her eating knife on the table as a sign of having finished her meal. From around the waistband of her skirt, she pulled out a pouch Gendry recognized from their journey from King's Landing, and pinched a few herbs from it and into her hot water. As she drank it in two gulps, Gendry noticed Lord Tyrion staring at her, at the cup, then at Gendry.

"Good Sister, may I speak with you…privately."

Arya pushed her chair back and rose from the table. When Lord Tyrion stood by her side, they walked away together, and Gendry heard the voice of the Lord Lannister, though he couldn't make out any words. They were half-way out of the Great Hall when Arya's ears and cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and her gaze flicked quickly to Gendry before returning to the Lord Lannister. Just before they left the Great Hall, the Lord Lannister still talking, Arya's face paled, and she looked as though death himself had come to her.

"That doesn't look so good for you, friend," Thonas said to him with a mouthful of ham.

Gendry thought the same thing.

* * *

_These two chapters were written as one chapter originally, but it was getting so large that I figured it would be better to separate into two. I hope this was a good decision. If so or if not, please let me know through review or PM. I'm always eager to know how the chapters are being received. I'm especially curious about what people think of my version of Tyrion and his conversation with Arya._


	10. More At Stake

_Happy New Year, everyone!_

_As always, I want to thank each and every Follower, "Favoriter," and Reviewer! It really does help motivate me to get these chapters out.  
_

* * *

The Lord Lannister and Arya hadn't return after the breaking of their fast, and Gendry wondered if he and Thonas were expected to sit at the table until their return. It should have been a relief when one of the lord's servants came to them with an offer from the lord himself to make use of the practice grounds, but Gendry would have been more at ease if he and Arya had returned.

The look on her face before she left the Great Hall with the lord bothered him, haunted him. He thanked the servant, but declined the offer, preferring to stay until Arya's return. Thonas suddenly appeared beside him with a smack to the back that took the air out of his chest. "What my friend here wants to say is that we to accept the offer."

The servant, a very slight, golden-haired man whose gaze never seemed to lift from his shoes, waited to lead them to their destination. Gendry continued to try and catch his breath, and Thonas grinned contently as he whispered, "Practice is exactly what you need, rather than pining for the Lady Assassin."

Gendry let out an exasperated breath, ready to argue that he wasn't pining, but when the servant and Thonas walked ahead, Gendry hesitated and wondered if he should stay behind to wait for Arya. The thought was proof enough that Thonas was right; he was pining. Defeated, he followed behind the two men. His friend could be right in another regard: practice might be the very thing he needed.

The practice grounds were more than Gendry could have imagined. The entire area was fenced in, divided into four spaces. Each section was large enough that it could be mistaken for a horsepen and a far cry from their sword practice in the Kingswood. From what he could see, each was equipped for a different level of skill.

Thonas made for the space with the broad, long wooden swords collected in woven baskets hung from the fence. The very sturdy, very large quintains and practice weaponry was a giveaway that this was the more advanced practice area. Gendry didn't feel advanced, but followed his friend regardless.

There was a noticeable glint in Thonas's eye as he pulled a wooden sword from the basket and waited for Gendry to follow suit.

The first match went as he'd expected: badly. Thonas had him in the dirt before his fifth breath. At least Gendry felt better that it took more effort to bring him down the second match. By the third, Gendry was tired and even more irritable than when he'd come to practice.

Frustration coursed through him, not just by being bested over and over again, but his thoughts couldn't help but wander back to Arya, how she left and didn't return, how she looked before she left. He let out a great breath before he pounded his fist in the dirt, grabbed a bit of it and flung it out with the force of his mounting anger.

Before he got up, he noticed in the corner a woven basket of wooden arms but not swords. One was in the shape of a hammer, and reminded Gendry of a smith's hammer. He got up, dusted himself of and strode over to the basket, picking out the largest wooden warhammer of the lot. It felt good in his hand, natural even. He tested the grip, swiveling it around to test the balance. He'd heard of men using warhammers, but he'd never seen one, much less one in action. Then there was the thought, somewhat repulsive, somewhat intriguing, that the dead King Robert was known for his use of a warhammer.

"That's more advanced than a sword. Think you're ready for that?" Thonas warned while eying the weapon.

Gendry swung his arm, testing his control then assumed a fighting stance. Thonas shrugged and joined him. Thonas swung his wooden sword, and Gendry leapt back, avoiding the blow. Defense was never his problem in fighting. For his size, he was surprisingly light on his feet.

Thonas swung the wooden sword once, then twice, but Gendry avoided the blows with ease. It seemed when he wasn't concentrating on when and how to apply his sword attacks, he could pool all of his concentration on defense. The last swing by Thonas opened his middle for attack and Gendry took it, swinging his wooden warhammer. He eyed his mark and hit it as surely as if it were steel in need of shaping.

Thonas crumpled to the ground and held his belly, coughing and sputtering and cursing Gendry for the attack, not that Gendry felt bad for it. How many times had Thonas had him on the ground in pain after their practices? More than he wanted to count.

He swiveled the grip in his hand and marveled at the feel of it. This was definitely his weapon of choice. Unable to hold it back, Gendry barked out a deep, rumbling laugh, and Thonas rolled his eyes, still doubled over and holding his gut.

Finally beginning to recover, Thonas ambled his way toward the water barrel and ladled himself a sip just as Gendry noticed the person standing behind him at the entrance of the practice grounds. The Lord Lannister walked from the fence to him while clapping.

"That was an impressive display. Reminds me of the old King Robert," he said as his eyes shifted from Gendry's face to the practice warhammer in his hand, studying both with equal intensity. Gendry never felt comfortable under the scrutiny of any lord, particularly this one; it always seemed as though the man knew something. Now, Gendry didn't wonder if the man knew something but wondered just how much the man knew.

"Many men prefer a warhammer to a sword," Gendry said casually, trying to make light of his seemingly natural skill.

"Oh, too true, too true," the lord agreed quickly then added, "but not all men look so much like the man himself.

There was some word, years ago, of Stannis Baratheon capturing one of Robert's surviving bastards. I do believe his name was Gendry. What a coincidence," the lord emphasized the word before turning his eyes back to Gendry with an amused smirk, "isn't that your name as well?"

At that moment, Gendry noticed through the corner of his eye how Thonas inspected his wooden sword near them, every so often flicking his eyes in their direction. The lord noticed this as well before offering a very innocent, disarming smile. "Let's get to the point, shall we?"

Gendry quirked a brow at that and waited for the man to continue.

"I know who your father is…was. I know who you are."

There was a chill down Gendry's spine and his heart pounded in his ears. The lord knew exactly who he was and knew his past to boot. The lord's nephew was the king who'd order his execution, although there were rumors it could have been his sister, and his loyalty to the future king, Gendry's uncle and once captor, was completely unknown.

Thonas must have heard because he moved closer to them with his eyes steady on the Lord Lannister.

The lord glanced in Thonas's direction then rolled his eyes. "If I wanted you killed or sent to our future king, it would have been done by now."

There was a noticeable release of tension in Thonas's shoulders as he considered the lord's words. Gendry couldn't feel any kind of relief; this wasn't Arya or Thonas. This wasn't someone he knew could keep a secret of life or death. And on top of that, he'd spent so long associating his identity with his death, it was almost second nature to expect some men to jump out from the shadows and drag him away now that he was exposed.

Thonas began practicing with the quintain until the sound of the wooden sword pummeling his sparring partner of stuffing and wood filled the space.

"Do you know the game you play, boy?" The lord's soft voice, obviously meant for Gendry alone, brought his attention back to the conversation.

A sniff was his only reaction to the offense before answering, "I play no games. And I'm not a boy."

The Lord Lannisters leaned on the fence. "You are playing a game whether you like it or not. Although, you're not a boy; I'll give you that."

"And what game do you think I'm playing, m'lord." He knew his answers were bordering on disrespectful, the tone of his voice at the very least, but the lord was working toward something, and Gendry just wanted whatever the Lord Lannister was rooting around for to be out in the open and done with.

"The Lady Arya. She has and will have many obligations as a lady of Winterfell. And how will you fit in with these obligations?"

Gendry bristled at the question. He'd asked himself the same over and over, and Thonas had brought it up during their travel from King's Landing. With a sigh—he had to come to grips with the fact that it was a question he would be asked often—he answered the only way he knew, the answer Arya had given. "I will smith for her, m'lord"

The Lord Lannister's gaze on him never faltered, but there was amusement on the man's face. Whether it was mocking or genuine, Gendry had no idea. "I wasn't aware the skills of a smith included warming a lady's bed."

Gendry's heartbeat was yet again in his ears, and he could barely breathe. He also noticed the sounds of Thonas practicing with the quintain came to an abrupt halt. Both men stared at the lord who seemed oblivious to them both as he stared at something beyond the fence. "The lady has much to bear in these times. I hope you don't weigh her down further."

The lord didn't bother to wait for a response from Gendry; he was already out of the practice area before Gendry could regain any use of his tongue. He knew Thonas meant well when he came to his side and patted his shoulder, but Gendry didn't want to talk to him. He didn't want to talk to anyone except Arya.

Gendry stormed into the Keep, resentment roiling inside him. There was no doubt what the half-man had said to her, that she was a lady and had to end her tryst with the lowborn, that she was a lady and had to marry a lord for Winterfell.

The moment he learned that she was who she was, Gendry knew this would happen. He reminded himself constantly that this would happen, and yet, there was that hidden part of him that hoped it wouldn't, that the rules would bend just for them and she could be his. Did she harbor the same hope? If she did, did the Lord Lannister put an end to any hope she had during that talk?

The Keep of Casterly Rock was like a maze, and the more he lost his way, the more his frustration turned into anger. It wasn't until he came upon a familiar face, his chambermaid, that he had any confidence that he could find Arya. The woman, typically bristly, squeaked with surprise when he grabbed her arm roughly. "Do you know where the Lady Arya is?"

"I do," she said with her eyes rounded in surprise, but then slowly slipped into a calm, knowing expression.

"Then tell me where is she!" Gendry yanked at her arm. He didn't want to manhandle the woman, but his patience was all but gone, and all he could see was that this woman stood between him and Arya.

The woman lazily glanced down at his hand wrapped around her arm, then once again met his eyes with a smirk. "I can do one better, m'lord."

Once she agreed to his demand, the rage inside him sloughed off like shedding a skin, and he came back to his senses. He noticed his hand around her arm and the bruising that had begun, reflexively letting go and feeling the flush of shame of what he'd done. The woman walked ahead of him, and Gendry muttered, still deep in his shame, "I'm no lord."

Following the woman through the maze of passageways, they ended up at a small wooden door with a latch for a handle. She slid the door open and waved for him to cross the threshold. When he did, she closed the door behind him, leaving him in the unknown room, except, the room wasn't unknown. It was the sept with Arya's sister, and the door was painted and hidden in the wall. Without knowing where to look, it would be hard to find.

He stood at the side of the room at the bottom of the platform where the Lady Lannister's body lay, and he looked up to see Arya sitting at the side of her sister, as she'd done the day before, whispering more secrets. She no longer wore her fine dress and elaborately styled hair. Instead, she wore men's breeches of sturdy leather, a silk tunic—the only thing close to lady-like—and the hair at the crown of her head was tied in a thong much the way she wore it during their travel.

With his annoyance and anger gone, he felt horrid for his reaction to her disappearance. Of course she would want to mourn her sister as she said she would. Of course she needed time to come to terms with her grief, and all he could do was pout like a petulant child when he couldn't see Arya at a whim. Thonas was right; he was pining.

Gendry slumped down in one of the pews and buried his face in his hands, scrubbing at his face with his annoyance at himself before chancing another look toward Arya.

She lifted her head and looked at him, whispered something more to her sister before leaving the platform and descending the stairs. He felt the sting when she continued down the center aisle toward the exit, ignoring his presence.

The rage in him flickered again, he couldn't stop it, and Gendry bolted from his seat and followed her out of the sept. When he grabbed her arm, he was startled by the sudden knife at his throat and the lethal fire in her eyes. He'd never seen that fire directed toward him.

She elbowed his chest with her free arm and pressed the blade closer to his throat. He could do nothing but retreat backward until his back hit the wall behind him. "Arya?"

The fire blazed in her eyes, and Gendry truly wondered if she would kill him, but then the fire dimmed until it extinguished utterly, and with it, her arms dropped to her sides in defeat. Her head hung low then turned to the side to avoid his gaze. "I can't see you now, Gendry. The stakes are higher than I thought; I need time to think."

"Think about what? What's changed?" he asked as he reached for her hands. She swatted them away as she backed away from him a step. She tried to look at him, her eyes tried to meet his, but somewhere around his nose she dropped her gaze again and took another step, then another, and one more until she turned and broke into a full run out of the Great Hall. Before she left, he thought he saw tears in her eyes. What had the Lord Lannister told her to cause this distance between them? What changed?

* * *

_It's funny. In my outline, I had their stay in Casterly Rock to last about a chapter or two. As I started writing, I realized a lot of scenes would work better in Casterly Rock._


	11. The Lady Arya Stark

_Again, thank all of you for giving this story a chance. A big thanks to all of the Reviewers, "Favoriters," and Followers of the story. I really can't describe how important each and every one is important to me._

* * *

After the first few matches with Thonas, his encounter with Arya, and more practice with the wooden warhammer, Gendry's mind and body were weary. He couldn't wait for the day to end, but when he sought the comfort of his room and bed, he couldn't sleep no matter how he tried.

He replayed the events with Arya in his mind and cursed himself for allowing his anger to get the better of him, again. He was the one to intrude when Arya was simply mourning her sister. He was the one to follow her out of the sept, high in his anger, and grabbed at her roughly. Of course she would put him in his place.

But it was the way she looked at him with the murderous fire in her eyes that haunted him for the rest of the day. And what in the seven hells had changed so quickly? What could the half-man tell her that would make her change so quickly against him? Gendry knew she would eventually turn away from him, but he hadn't expected it to happen in a day.

He wanted so badly for her to be in his arms again and pretend she could be his a little longer, that what he saw in her eyes was only a misunderstanding.

The full moon had neared its apex, before he entered the limbo between awake and asleep, when he got his wish. His door creaked open slowly followed by a soft tiptoe.

There was the rustling sound of cloth pooling on the floor before the bedding shifted beside him, and the warm body of Arya cuddled close, molding itself to the side of his body. He needed this; he needed the reassurance of her in his arms. Gendry wrapped his arms around her and pulled her even closer as her hand came up to his face to urge his lips to find hers in the dark.

This was when he first noticed the shape of her lips were wrong. These lips were too full. He felt the curls of her head loop against his cheek. Then he noticed the feel of the body in his arms. Her bosom was wrong, the curve of her waist to her hips was wrong. The smell of her was completely wrong. This was not Arya. He wanted it to be her so badly that, at first, he ignored the differences; Arya's characteristics had burned themselves in his memory, and these were none of them.

He pushed the woman away from him with a little too much force than he intended and heard a yelp and a thump on the floor. Quickly, he took the opportunity to light the lamp near his bed, and in the dim light, he saw a woman that he could never mistake for Arya. She was tall where Arya was short; she had a thin frame of slight curves where Arya was solid with muscle and very womanly. This woman had skin and curly hair as fair as any Lannister where Arya's skin had the soft kiss of gold from a fading tan and rich brown hair that only curled at the edges.

The woman righted herself from the floor and pulled the blanket from the bed to cover herself.

"Who are you?" Gendry asked, and the woman scrambled to gather the clothes she must have discarded when she came into his room all the while trying to keep herself covered by the blanket. That was yet another difference. Nudity was not a concern for Arya under any circumstance, to his chagrin.

"I work in the kitchens, m'lord. I saw you in the servants' passageway with my sister, and…" She trailed off while he saw the color rise in her cheeks, even with only the dim light of the lamp, and her eyes darted to the side. "I asked my sister to sneak me inside your room. I thought after your travels, you could use some…company."

Gendry rounded the edge of the bed to stand next to the woman and pressed his hand to her back, taking great pains to calm his irritation and be gentle with her, to guide her toward his door once she had her gown tied. "I'm no lord."

"Ser?"

"Nor a knight."

"But you're a guest of the Lord Lannister," she gestured her hand around his room. Gendry did find it odd that he was given a room with a window. It may not have been a luxurious chamber fit for highborn, but it was not one of the windowless rooms in the center of the Keep reserved for servants and unimportant guests.

"You must have some position," she questioned even as he walked her to the door.

"Nothing," he said to her simply. "No titles, no wealth, nothing but my name and even that has no worth." It was the truth of sorts, but it stung, especially after the events of the day.

"That's okay," she smiled warmly from the threshold of his door. "My interest wasn't in a title or wealth, just a good bedding." She then eyed him slowly from his bare toes to the top of his head, reaching out her hand to touch a stray lock of his disheveled hair. "And you have the look of that promise."

Gendry seized the woman's wrist and pushed it away from him. "Woman, if that's what you seek, ask your sister to take you to my friend, Thonas. He would be more than happy to help you."

She seemed very disappointed at first, then the corners of her lips tilted upward into a small smile before she turned and left. Gendry immediately closed the door behind her. He grabbed the blanket from the floor where the woman dropped it and walked back to his bed, flopping down on it with all of the frustration borne from his predicament.

He couldn't tell what bothered him most: that the woman wasn't Arya, that Arya hadn't come to see him, or that he had no interest in any other woman in his bed other than Arya.

Before the cock's crow of dawn, his door creaked again. Gendry took a deep breath, trying to rein in his anger at a woman that couldn't take no for an answer. Thonas must have lost his touch if the woman came back to him afterward.

His anger, like molten metal, reshaped quickly to hope and excitement when he heard the familiar voice, the voice he desperately wanted to hear all night. "Gendry?"

He bolted upright and stared at the woman standing with her back to his closed door. In the twilight, he could see the look of her face and body, vulnerable with so many emotions he didn't have, or care to have, the time to tally. He just held his arm out to her, offering himself as some comfort. He only hoped she would accept.

And she did. She rushed into his arms and into his bed and under the blanket close beside him. "I missed you," he whispered to her as he kissed the crown of her head. The hair there was like silk, curling at the edges like they should. It was an absurd thing to say to her; he'd seen her twice the day before and had her in his arms the last morning, but it was the truth after the day they'd had. "Are you done with your thinking?"

She held him closer, her arms tight around his waist and her head pressed tightly to his chest. He could feel her nod against him. He felt her silk shirt against his arms and the leather breeches against his legs. "You didn't last long in the lady's gown and hair," he said to her with a soft chuckle.

Arya sighed. "I tried it for my sister…and my mother…and my family, but it wasn't me. If I'm to be the Lady of Winterfell, it has to be me or nothing. The stakes are so much higher, and if I don't…" Her words trailed off, and she shifted uncomfortably in his arms.

"Don't what? What's changed, Arya?" he asked, this time pleading for her to share whatever it was the Lord Lannister burdened her with.

"My sister always spoke of love," she changed the subject quickly. "Always with her stories of men and women falling in love." She tilted her head to face him. "Is this love?"

His breath raced ahead of him, and he could barely catch up to it. If ever there was a time when Gendry wished he could have Thonas's advice, this was it; his friend would know the words a woman wanted to hear in times like these. But then again, Arya wasn't just any woman. Gendry was left with the only option he had: the truth.

"I don't know," he sighed. His brows furrowed as he thought about what the word meant to him. "I barely remember what it was like to be loved by my mum, and I've never seen love between a man and woman."

His jaw clenched at the thought of what he barely had and felt Arya shifting in his arms before finishing his thoughts. "All I know is that when you're sad, all I want to do is comfort you. When you're in danger, all I want to do is protect you. I could spend the rest of my life like this with you in my arms and never want for anything more. If love is less than this, I don't want it. If love is more than this, then I want it with you."

She slid her hand into his and twined their fingers together as she looked at them and beyond them, lost in her thoughts. For a long moment, Gendry thought she'd fallen asleep, but she said, "We have to leave before midday, for Winterfell." Her voice was resolute, far more than when she entered his room.

"But you wanted time to mourn—"

"I have too much to do," she said to him then corrected, "we have too much to do."

Gendry nodded. He didn't understand completely, but whatever it was that Arya had to do, he would help her achieve it with his last breath. He curled his body around her protectively and closed his eyes, allowing the quiet peace of the moment to relax him.

A heavy knock at his door startled him from his sleep. He hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep after Arya had come to him. That's when he realized that his body didn't have the comfortable weight against him, and he opened his eyes to see no Arya in sight.

Had she even come to him, or was it a dream?

The door opened, and Thonas strode into his room, his chambermaid standing at the door with the key in hand. "Get up! It seems the Lord Lannister and the Lady Assassin have plans for us this day."

Gendry could barely follow what the man was saying, sleep addled and full of bitterness that Arya might not have come to him. He just grunted from his bed and felt a heavy weight drop on it, shifting the blankets. "Come on, you. Up and out!" Then he felt Thonas's breath at his ear and a whispered, "And thanks for the 'gift' in the night. Was a welcome surprise!"

With just a groan, Gendry pulled the blanket over his head and turned away from Thonas. "Oh, come on, Gendry. The Lady Assassin will have my head if we're not travel ready by mid-morn. Besides, the Lord Lannister's offered us our pick of weapons from his armory." His voice then fell into a singsong tone, "I hear there are warhammers aplenty."

"We are leaving for Winterfell?" Gendry threw back the blanket to face Thonas.

"Of course. We have to leave by midday. The Lady Assassin said she told you this."

He didn't want to tell his friend that he'd thought Arya only came to him in a dream. "She did. I fell asleep, and I'm still trying to clear my thoughts."

Thonas nodded and patted him on the back before standing and leaving the room. As sleep addled as he was and content that Arya had, in fact, come to see him, Gendry had to smile to himself at another realization: Thonas was coming with them.

* * *

Both men left the armory of Casterly Rock with their weapons of choice. Thonas had an adequate longsword sheathed at one side of his hip and a shortsword at the other. They were solid swords; Gendry used his smith's eye to choose the best quality in the armory.

Gendry, however, only had a shortsword sheathed at his side, but a warhammer tucked into his belt at the back.

They made their way to the bailey when they saw a cart loaded to the brim with crates of bricks, surrounded by Lannister servants adding more bricks to the cart. The Lord Lannister and Arya stood nearby with her hands in his, both engrossed in their conversation. By the time the men came close, Gendry heard the lord ask her, "Are you sure you want to take this route?"

The two were finally aware of both men, and Arya slipped her hands from the lord's and nodded. "And you?"

The lord nodded then beamed a dazzling smile. "I have a wedding to attend."

Thonas ignored them both as he rubbed at his chin. "We're supposed to travel with a bloody cart full of bricks?"

"Yes," Arya's answered, "bricks to rebuild Winterfell." She then plucked a brick from the bottom of the cart and threw it to the bare rock ground of the bailey with force.

The brick cracked in half and at the center of the tiny pile of rubble were two gold dragons. "The bricks at the top are simple bricks, but those at the bottom are full of riches. No one will be interested in two men carting bricks to the north."

"Two men?" Gendry's tone was far louder and more panicked than he would have preferred, but at least she would know exactly how he felt.

"Word of my return is spreading fast. They'll expect a lady in her finery protected by a wheelhouse and many armed men with a great chance for riches in tow. This way, they'll never suspect, and I'll meet you both at Castle Cerwyn when the moon is full again."

"A full month?" Gendry wanted to protest further, but Thonas interjected first. "And what will you do, m'lady?"

"I have business to attend to. Once I'm done, I'll meet you both at the castle." She stepped closer to Gendry, her eyes pleading with him to not argue with her on this plan. "I'll be fine. Although I can no longer pass for a boy or man," she gestured toward the curves of her body, "no one would expect a lady to travel by herself at first glance, and we both know…" She dropped her voice to a whisper as her lips were feather soft at his ear, "…I can take care of myself." She then kissed his cheek so softly, he barely felt it.

He didn't care that there were servants around them; he didn't care that the Lord Lannister was right there beside him. His only care was that he wouldn't see Arya for an entire month, and if something happened to her, there was nothing he could do. Although, he had to concede that the woman was more capable of protecting herself than he was. None of it mattered as he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off of her feet. He was becoming careless, and so was she for allowing him to do it.

They held each other for a long moment before Arya pushed away from him, whispered something in the Lord Lannister's ear, slung a satchel on the saddle of her rounsey, and then mounted it with one hop. The horse started, clopping its hooves at the stone in protest at the sudden weight of its rider, then calmed itself. They were off into a full gallop across the bailey, through the gate, and out of Gendry's sight moments later.

* * *

_I know Arya's reactions may seem erratic, but there are things going on in the background that are being kept from Gendry so we don't get to see them until they are revealed in due time. There is method to my madness...mwahahahaha_


	12. Road Weary

_Thank you all for reading and giving this story a chance. And as always, a big thank you to all of the Reviewers, "Favoriters," and Followers out there._

* * *

Gendry listened to Thonas recount his nights with women, mostly the woman from Casterly Rock's kitchens, and lament that he could no longer enjoy the "exquisite taste" of Dornish wine. It seemed he shared that preference in wine with the half lord.

Gendry didn't want to be reminded of Casterly Rock, and he didn't want to be reminded of the half-man. Both did nothing but bring to mind all that was wedged between him and Arya, whether he knew of it or not. What was hidden from him, the information she wouldn't share with him, was particularly painful to him and caused her to be even more unpredictable than her typical nature, which was already unnervingly unpredictable.

It was bad enough that he spent his quiet moments, those rare moments Thonas would afford him, thinking about what awaited him in Winterfell, what his life would be like there. He wondered if he could help Arya rebuild or if he would be needed at all. The load of coin hidden in the cart he drove could fund several smiths, the metal to keep them working for years, and the soldiers to make use of their work. What would she need of him?

And then there were the nights when Gendry would awaken to a shoe or pebbles thrown at his head. "Shut it!" Thonas would grumble. The next morn's journey, instead of listening to Thonas speak of women and wine, he would complain mightily of how Gendry said Arya's name in his sleep. Sometimes, it was soft as a whisper. Sometimes, it was a helpless cry. Sometimes… Gendry felt the rush of heat along his neck each time Thonas described those times in embarrassing detail.

All of this was not helped by the fact that there were times, distinct times, when Gendry felt as though he were being watched. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck would stand on end, and his already frayed nerves would wind tighter, looking for whoever it was that he was sure was following them.

He called for several stops, telling Thonas that he had to take a piss, and carefully searched the ever thickening wooded area surrounding the road. All he found, once, was a few scratches in the dirt.

For five and ten days Gendry had to travel under these conditions, and he was ready to muzzle his friend and bind him to the cart. "Not so much fun without the company of a woman, eh?" Thonas had needled late one night Gendry felt particularly lonesome in his travel bedding; he'd grown accustomed to Arya sleeping beside him. The comment caused the creases on his forehead to deepen, perhaps hardening into a permanent scowl because he seemed to always feel them during this journey.

Thonas trotted next to him; his horse nickered at the change in pace. It was like a bowl of soup to a starving man when Thonas told him, "I see an inn ahead. I think it's a good a place as any for some food and sleep." Gendry saw it. They didn't make any stops at any of the inns along the way, but this time they were running out of supplies and had to stop. Gendry was thankful for that, else he might have followed through with his wish to silence his friend and bind him to the cart.

"The Crossroads Inn," Thonas told him wearily, obviously just as tired of being on the River Road as he was.

Gendry nodded, but what came to mind he kept to himself. He'd been to this inn before, years ago, when it was him and Arya and a round boy named Hot Pie staying together for some semblance of security. All those years ago, Hot Pie decided to stay as a baker. During the years Gendry stayed hidden from the nobles and their warplay, there was word that the owner of the inn was hanged by Lannisters. Then came word that her nephew had taken ownership of it only to be killed as well. Each time, the inn was robbed of its valuables and the workers in it were murdered.

The truth of it was that Gendry was surprised to see the damned place still standing.

In the clearing between the stables and a neglected smithy, he slowed the cart and then stepped down when it came to a full stop. He gave Thonas a nod in silent agreement that he would go in and get their supplies while Thonas stood guard.

Before he could make it to the entrance, a woman stepped out of it while wiping her hands clean on her apron with a very reserved smile on her face.

"Can I help you?"

"Aye, you can help me," Thonas said as only a man of his sort could, eying the woman from the top of her wavy brown hair to the tips of her toes.

"There'll be none of that here!" another voice roared out from the doorway of the inn, and a little spitfire of braided brown hair and cold cobalt eyes rushed past the woman standing before them and walked right up to Thonas. She didn't seem to care that he was still atop his horse.

"Me and my sister won't take that kind of behavior, so if that's what you're looking for, you passed a brothel some miles back there," she said as she snapped her thumb in the direction of the stretch of road from which they'd just come. She eyed them carefully for a long moment then asked, "Do you even have the coin to pay for anything?"

"We have plenty, and we don't want trouble," Gendry tried to assure her. He even offered a smile that was surprisingly genuine. There was something about her that made him feel at ease.

She eyed Gendry, trying to figure if he told the truth, and then relaxed and gave him a nod of approval. "I'm Willow Heddle," she introduced herself then pointed to the woman behind her. "And this is my sister, Jeyne."

"We're pleased to meet you both. Again, we don't want any trouble, just buy some food, fill up our water flasks, and we'll be on our way."

Willow folded her arms and shared a glance with her sister before rolling her eyes at the two men, "Both of you look like you fought the road and the road won! Of course you're going to stay the night. You'd be stupid not to."

That's when Thonas barked a laugh that continued until he was doubled over on his horse wheezing for air.

Gendry was about to decline the offer when another person came out of the inn, a man of medium build with dark brown hair and a growth of beard. He stopped at the side of the woman named Jeyne and wrapped his arm around her waist. "What's all the noise out here? What's goin' on?" he asked the woman in his arm then noticed the two men standing with them.

It was the look of dumbfounded shock on the man's face that jarred something in Gendry's memory, and the words came out before he even realized what he was saying. "Hot Pie?"

The man gave Gendry a hard look at first then it softened considerably as a smile slowly worked its way across his lips. "Gendry? Is that you?"

Both men reached for each other, pulling the other into a bear hug of affection that could only be borne of surviving a couple of hells together. "You haven't changed a bit!" Hot Pie said as he pulled back and marveled at the man standing before him.

Gendry quirked a half-grin. "You have!" It was then that Gendry could see the boy he knew in the man before him when a bit of red crept into his cheeks and neck.

Gendry couldn't help but stare, remembering the boy he knew. Hot Pie. The voice and coloring was right, but the man was completely different than how he remembered. The soft, doughy belly had flattened and firmed and the fleshy cheeks had slimmed into something far more chiseled than soft.

"I see you met Jeyne here," he said as he gave the woman in his arm a squeeze then nodded in the direction of Willow, "and her sister, W—"

Gendry smiled warmly and fought the chuckle that threatened to bubble up, "We've met."

"Come on in! We'll get you both a good meal and a comfortable bed for the night."

He and Thonas shared a look and Hot Pie noticed the silent conversation between the two men. "If you want, we can store your cart in the shed; it has locks and no windows."

At that, Gendry had to smirk. Hot Pie may not have been the greatest mind of their time, but he knew enough that things were not always what they seemed, that the cart of bricks was important to them for reasons they weren't willing to reveal.

"Sounds secure to me." Thonas hopped off of his horse, eager for a hot meal, a warm bed, and most likely ready to seek out a willing woman. "Lead the way."

* * *

_The show replaced the actual inn where Hot Pie decided to stay in the books (the Kneeling Man Inn) with the Crossroads Inn, so I used that version. This means that, unlike the books, Hot Pie has a shared history with all that's happened with the inn. __I'm more than a little curious to know what you guys think of my version of Future Hot Pie. _


	13. Friends, Old and New

_Again, I want to thank everyone who gave this story a chance.  
_

* * *

When all five of them first entered the inn, a serving woman came to Gendry and Thonas, eying the two men with great interest. Hot Pie waved her away, explaining that he, Jeyne, and Willow would take care of them. It was almost laughable how quickly Thonas developed a pout, and Gendry wondered if the man grown would stomp his foot and cry like a babe.

Hot Pie led them to an empty table at the back of the main hall and sat with them as Jeyne and Willow disappeared in the back to get their meals and drink.

"It's hard work keepin' this inn open. The wars and winter took their toll on everyone." Gendry could only nod in agreement. Although he had what Davos gave him, plenty to pay for his room and board for years in Flea Bottom, and the memories during that time of his life were misty and vague having spent most of his time passively experiencing the world around him, he did see the others around him suffer.

He remembered children starving, woman crying, and men slumped over in defeat, not able to provide food to keep their families alive. Sometimes, Gendry would have the mental wherewithal to hand them a couple of copper stars for a meal and warm clothes, but most times, Gendry would pass by while absenting absorbing the events around him. He had his own demons to battle and hide from without taking on more sorrow.

Even so, even he recognized how bitter and desperate those winter days were, and somehow, Hot Pie and the two women survived them. "But how did you survive? I'd heard everyone here was killed with the last two owners and then endure winter on top of it all."

Hot Pie nodded and then shook his head as though clearing his mind of the horrendous memories. "Well, I had practice knowin' when death's comin'. There was nothin' I could do for Masha, the woman that asked me to stay and bake for her, but I tried to get the other kitchen workers to leave. They didn't think the Lannister soldiers would bother after Masha's hanging." Hot Pie sighed, "But I knew enough to hide before they started lookin' for more to kill."

"And those two?" Thonas nudged his head in the direction of the kitchen door.

"When Masha's nephew took over, he turned the inn into a brothel." The man's face turned beet red, "Wasn't respectable, but they made a fair bit of coin, I have to admit." He then mindlessly scratched his fingernail on the wooden table. "Noblemen came and ran him through. I saw it comin', saw the look in their eyes. So I grabbed his two daughters; they weren't supposed to be here. Their father wouldn't allow them inside, but they came into the kitchen without him knowin' when he was too busy tryin' to find the best girl for the nobleman."

Gendry let out a grunting noise of absolute disgust and muttered, "Nobles."

"Then winter came, and the Dragon Queen won the wars, and ordered the houses to send soldiers north to fight the Whitewalkers. Thieves were aplenty, but Jeyne and Willow took in orphans then. There were plenty of strong boys to help fend off most." Hot Pie's gaze dropped down and winced at the memory. Gendry was sure that also meant a lot of the boys lost their lives defending the inn. "When the winter cold started to break, most of the older orphans went on to find their own way, and some of the younger ones that survived the winter…" Hot Pie scratched the back of his head and fidgeted in his chair. "Can't say, but I figure they're in a better place now."

As though eager to change the subject, Hot Pie straightened with a glimmer in his eye. "Speakin' of nobles, after the last two, I heard that there's another claimin' to be Arry. You know anythin' about that?"

Thonas snorted, but then fought back his amusement by clearing his throat.

After giving him an exasperated look, Gendry tried to calm himself so that Hot Pie couldn't see how annoyed he was. "Yeah. I saw her. It's her," was all he said.

It wasn't as though Gendry didn't trust Hot Pie. The boy he knew wouldn't tell secrets, but they could be forced out of him with a laughably small amount of fear. He wasn't sure if it was the same as the man sitting across from him, but he wasn't going to take any chances with too much truth.

In return, Hot Pie nodded, not asking any more questions. "Yeah, I miss Arry. But I have Willow around. She reminds me of her."

"And what about Jeyne?" Gendry asked him, his eyebrow quirked a little higher in curiosity and amusement at how quickly the red had spread from the man's neck to his cheeks. He watched how his old friend squirmed in front of him, and Gendry got another glimpse at the old Hot Pie.

"We…I…she…" he stammered then took a deep breath before forcing out the words, "she's my wife." Gendry had to fight back an amused chuckle at the way Hot Pie puffed his chest in pride. "She refused for a while 'cause she wanted to keep her family's name, thinkin' it was only right that a Heddle own the inn. But she agreed when…"

"When?" Thonas had to join in, curiosity getting to him just as much.

"She's gonna' to have a baby. Bastards can't inherit. She says she'd rather see her son or daughter inherit the inn without the name Heddle than not inherit it at all. Not that Willow would want this place."

"Her sister doesn't want the inn?"

Hot Pie shook his head furiously. "Says she wants to move up north and live with the wildlings."

That did sound like Arya, and the similarity only made Gendry long to see the grey of her eyes and feel of her lips all the more.

"What about you? You have a woman?"

A loud snort came from Thonas beside him, and Gendry truly wished his friend wasn't there.

"No," Gendry said solemnly while glaring at Thonas, daring him to say a word. Hot Pie looked between the two men and cocked his head to the side as though trying to figure out what was going on between them.

Jeyne appeared from the back with platters balanced in her arms followed by Willow carrying jugs of ale. Hot Pie immediately lifted himself from his chair and rushed to Jeyne's side, grabbing the two heaviest platters to lighten her burden.

"Oh! You'll help her, but each one of these jugs weighs more than all those platters put together," Willow grumbled.

Gendry agreed that it wasn't fair to help one woman while not the other, so he rose from his chair and went to Willow's aid. He lifted one jug and realized that she spoke the truth, they were heavy, and he wondered how she managed to bring out the two by herself.

"Well, you've carried this long enough," he told her as he grabbed the second jug from her hand. She gave him an appreciative smile and nod before grabbing the eating knifes from one of the platters Hot Pie held.

"Roast pork, mashed turnips, and fresh bread!" Thonas whooped. "Haven't had a decent meal like this since leaving…" he stopped himself when realizing that just saying from where they'd left would have been some hint of their purpose, then recovered quickly, "…Lannisport."

Gendry started to pour the ale when there was instantly a hand under his, blocking him from pouring. His eyes lifted to meet Willow's, and she smiled warmly at him, "I'll pour while you sit and enjoy your meal."

Her voice was sweet and completely lacked the hard edge that, until now, had been his only experience of her. He also noticed that her hair was no longer braided. All these things meant something, Gendry was sure of it, but he didn't care to dwell on her reasons.

As he seated himself, Hot Pie and Jeyne shared a look just as Thonas eyed him, and Gendry had the distinct feeling that they knew something he didn't. At his other side, Willow took her seat and stabbed the pile of sliced roast pork for her portion. It reminded him of Arya, and he couldn't help but smile.

"I don't think you're a brick or stonemason. So what are you?" Willow asked him while chewing on her pork. She narrowed her eyes as though she could discover his trade just by the look of him. She studied him until her eyes fell to his arms, his rolled up sleeves exposed the hard muscle underneath. Her lips parted, and he heard a sudden intake of air from her as her chest heaved. That's when her eyes met his again, and he saw what it was he couldn't figure before.

Embarrassed and uncomfortable, his blood pulsed loudly and heat rushed up his neck and face until the warmth in the main hall of the inn felt as hot as standing next to a roaring fire. As though in response to his reaction, more than likely misreading it as interest, Willow quirked him a minute smile before turning back to her food.

Trying to get back to things that made sense, he remembered he'd been asked a question and answered, "Blacksmith. Out of steady practice, but a blacksmith."

"How wonderful," Jeyne joined in. "We have a smithy with a decent forge." She then glanced at Hot Pie, who decided to enter the conversation. "Yes! That's right. You were an armorer's apprentice!"

He liked the fuss being made of his low level skill even less than the attention Willow had shown him and dipped his head low, focusing on his food.

"I'd like to show it to you later," Willow offered. Gendry felt all eyes on him, even if he refused to look up and see them. It would have been disrespectful to decline; he knew that much. He didn't look up from his plate when he gave her a curt nod and grunt to accept her offer.


	14. Just Say So, Stupid

_As always, I want to take the time to thank all of the Reviewers, "Favoriters," and Followers out there!_

* * *

Jeyne insisted that Willow show Thonas and Gendry to their room. The two had to share, but it was better accommodations than they were expecting for the edge of the Riverlands.

Thonas plopped down on the bed and seemed wholly satisfied with the feel of it, while Gendry stood by the window and watched a man leave the inn on wobbly legs. It wasn't the most interesting sight to see, having seen his fill of it throughout the years, but it was better than turning to see what he knew awaited him.

Willow's back leaned against the frame of the door, and her eyes were on him. They'd been on him steadily since their meal, and Gendry felt a panic building within him. He couldn't bring himself to look at her because each time he did he felt the sudden urge to leave whatever room she was in.

"We'll pay you for the room," he told her while still looking out of the window.

"No you won't." The calm, resolute sound of her voice made him forget his fear for a moment and look up, only to find her eyes on him just as before, just as he'd expected. They were soft and sensual and very inviting, and Gendry wanted none of it. He turned his attention back to the window just before she said to him, "None of us will hear of it. You're our guests. Accept it."

With that, the door closed, and Gendry assumed Willow left the room when he heard Thonas speak from behind him. "The Lady Assassin has a twin in that girl. I think this is a featherbed."

Gendry grunted in some agreement, then walked to the small table with the wash basin and splashed some water on his face. He could see the similarities, but he could see more the differences between the two women. Where they were both combative and demanding women, Arya relied on action while Willow relied on words. Willow accepted the expectations of a woman to a greater degree than Arya ever would…so far.

"She fancies you. That much is clear," Thonas said simply as he leaned back on the bed and appraised its softness. He seemed pleased by it and flopped back fully, spreading his arms and legs out. "By the Seven, this is a featherbed!"

Ignoring him, Gendry sagged into a chair near the table and covered his face with his hands. He didn't want Willow's attention, and he didn't want her to look at him the way she did.

"See here, Gendry." Thonas's voice demanded his attention, snapping him from his own thoughts. "Since my niece, and then my sister…you're like a brother to me and just about the only family I've got." He sighed while lifting up on his elbows just enough to look Gendry in the eye. "I know what's between you and the Lady Assassin. I'm not blind, although, I wished I were a few times!" Thonas sighed loudly. "She saved your sorry carcass, and for that, I'm thankful. I truly am, but now that your problem with women is right as rain, time for you to think about your future. I know you feel it's your duty to return the assassin to her lady perch, but don't you want a home and children of your own?"

Gendry flinched. He never gave those things much thought, until recently. It was a sweet notion that never seemed to fit for him, never seemed to spur his imagination. Whenever he did try to picture that life for himself, it always seemed out of place, out of focus and insignificant.

But since the Goldroad, he imagined almost daily a home with a smithy and Arya round and heavy with his child in her belly. He dreamed of teaching his grey-eyed son to hammer steel into fine blades and watching Arya teach their blue-eyed daughter to ride horses and dance her strange sword fighting style. He dreamed that at night, she would lay in his arms and would be as happy as he was with these things. But he knew none of them could ever be.

She would marry a lord and have his babies, for Winterfell. Her Lord Husband would balk at the thought of a son of his hammering at steel or a daughter of his learning swordplay. And most of all, Arya would resent any man that forced her to stop drinking her daily tea and got a baby in her.

Thonas sighed, jolting Gendry back to the moment and reminding him that he wasn't alone in the room. "You give that Willow a chance, and if you still want the Lady Assassin, I'll say nothing more about it from here on. Agreed?"

Gendry's first thought was to say no, that he wouldn't even entertain the idea of it, but then he thought of his dreams and how none of them could ever come true. How when it came to Arya, he could never be more what an indiscretion in the eyes of all of Westeros. He thought about the lord that would eventually negotiate his way into her bed just as his "uncle" Stannis had into the Dragon Queen's bed. What was it that the Lord Lannister said? "We do what we must to survive and to do what is best for our house and family."

His life and skill were dedicated to Arya, but he had to know, without a doubt, that he was willing to dedicate himself to a future where Arya could never fully be his. Against the quickening beat of his heart and his gut telling him that it wasn't for him, Gendry nodded his agreement to the deal.

* * *

The smithy was dark and damp and the loneliness of years of neglect hung everywhere. Gendry traced his fingers over the anvil to feel the scrapes and imperfections as his eyes flitted from one tool to another, appraising each for its viability.

"So, do you think it can be worked again?" Willow asked, distracting his inventorying of the work area.

"The forge is in good shape, only needs minor repair. Most of the tools are in decent shape as well. Some will need replacing."

Willow leaned against a wall and padded her fingertips along the tongs hanging near her. "Would you be interested in this smithy? You could offer your service to those stopping for rest. Could make a fair bit of coin, I'd say."

She pushed herself off of the wall and took steps in Gendry's direction. He knew that look; he'd seen that look in her eyes before. When he remembered that look in the red woman's eyes, it took every bit of his will to stay in place rather than leave the smithy. Then he remembered that look in Arya's eyes. His muscles immediately relaxed, his body heated and his cock stirred at the memory.

It was only mere moments before she was in front of him, and then her body tilted even closer, her arms slipped around his neck, and hesitantly, she shifted her weight to her toes so that her lips came very close to his and waited.

His muscles tightened again. He didn't feel the ease that he had with Arya nor the comfort he found in her arms. He didn't see the fire behind Arya's eyes that warmed his body either. In her eyes, he didn't see the red woman, but he might as well have by the reaction of his body. His chest felt tight as though something was tied around it, and he struggled for his next breaths. Her arms about his neck felt like a noose, tightening and restricting his breathing further.

He'd promised Thonas he would give this a chance. In truth, he had to give himself this one chance, and he did; he truly did. For a moment, he tried to picture Willow as his woman and the mother of his children, but the image lacked the luster it had when Arya stood in it. In her eyes, the woman before him lacked the fire and brilliance that was Arya Stark, and that's when he couldn't continue the farce.

Taking her shoulders in his hands, he quickly created a distance between them, keeping her at arm's length.

She was hurt, he could see it on her face, but then it was replaced by curiosity. "There's someone else," she told him, not bothering with forming a question. Gendry could only nod. There was no other path for him. There was no other woman in his future besides Arya. But was it so obvious to others?

Willow folded her arms and rolled her eyes, "Well, why didn't you just say so, stupid?"

Why? He couldn't tell her that the only woman he wanted was a noblewoman. That the only woman he wanted would eventually be the wife of another man. How could he tell her that she was his last possibility of a family and home of his own? Why? Because the only way he could describe it, the only way it made sense was that he loved Lady Arya Stark of Winterfell.

Somewhere in the deeply wooded area near the inn, the two listened to the long, throaty howl of what sounded like a very large wolf.


	15. Seek Her Mercy

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_

* * *

After a good night's rest in a soft, warm bed, Gendry and Thonas had the cart and horses ready to continue their journey on the Kingsroad before the first rays of sunlight the next morn. Thonas hadn't said a word to him since Gendry returned early the night before and described what had happened with Willow. It wasn't what Thonas wanted to hear.

Gendry was convinced his friend had hoped Willow would be enough like Arya to tempt him into a commitment, that he would tell of plans to return to the inn after fulfilling his promise of helping Arya reclaim her title and property. Thonas might have even hoped that he would return with the news that Willow would join them to the north as his woman.

But none of that happened. In fact, his time with Willow had solidified his choice, strengthened his resolve. For whatever it held in his future, he chose Arya, and it was clear Thonas thought it was a grave mistake.

Hot Pie and Willow brought them enough sacks of smoked meat strips and skins of water for the entire ride to Winterfell.

No longer attentive, Willow was again the short-tempered woman she was when they'd first met, and the return to her disinterest relaxed him. He even enjoyed her company as they lifted the food and drink atop the cart. "And this one's for your friend." She patted one small, corked jug. "He seems the type to be more agreeable with some ale in his belly."

Gendry nodded with a smirk as she walked away from him, and when it came time to leave, his old friend stood next to the cart. Gendry placed a gold dragon in the palm of his hand. Hot Pie refused, holding out his hand to give back the dragon, but Gendry shook his head and wouldn't take it back. "No. That's for your babe. Keep safe, old friend."

Realizing that he wouldn't be able to argue, Hot Pie closed his fingers around the coin and gave Gendry a nod of thanks. The two old friends pulled each other into one last hug goodbye. "Keep them all safe," Gendry said softly in his friend's ear.

"And say hello to Arry for me," Hot Pie said back in a whisper. Gendry pulled away and studied the man's face, only to see an amused smile, but Hot Pie said nothing more. There was no use pretending otherwise, no use telling lies. Gendry just accepted defeat and nodded his head before he turned and stepped onto the cart.

As they rode away, Gendry took one last look to see Hot Pie holding Jeyne around her waist and Willow standing in the doorway of the inn.

But that was almost five days ago, and Gendry had spent half that time being ignored by his companion, and the other half wondering how far along the road Arya could've gotten traveling alone.

Ahead of them, they spotted a throng people walking toward them. Some looked up to see the men as they passed by, some didn't bother, but none seemed interested. Gendry hadn't seen faces as bleak and broken as these since the wars.

After a quarter of them walked by, Gendry noticed something strange: they were all women and children. Thonas trotted to the side of the cart and confirmed it with his question, "Do you see a man among them?"

Gendry craned his neck to get a better look at the people straggling at the end, and shook his head. "Not a one."

The two men tried to speak with the women, and all they got were wary looks from cautious eyes. Somewhere in the middle of the crowd was a girl, seemingly without a mother to hold her hand. "You, girl!" Gendry called to her, and she stopped in her place, looking up from the road. She seemed frightened, too afraid to move. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to know what happened here," Gendry assured her.

She fidgeted with the cloth of her dress and cast her gaze downward once again. It was only then that Gendry noticed the cloth and make of her dress. If not for the soot and road grime covering her, it might have been considered fancy and fit for a lady. Not that Gendry was all that familiar with the material, but it had the look of ragged silk.

"Some say it was a ghost," she told them. "Some say it was an attack. I woke up to everything on fire, and my father was dead. Everyone's father was dead. Even men who weren't fathers are dead." Her eyes flicked to the people around her before returning downward. "I was told we have to go to the Queen, seek her mercy." The girl shrugged her shoulders in defeat as she walked away from them and rejoined the slow pace of those around her. Before she slipped out of sight in the crowd, she said to them, "I don't know how much mercy we'll get seeing as the new king doesn't like Freys."

Gendry and Thonas looked at eat other, both trying to piece together in their minds the information given by the girl and all it meant: Freys, all the men dead, women told to go to the Queen. Women on the Kingsroad were always in danger, but they may find strength and security in their sheer numbers. Only guessing, it looked to be more than a hundred women on the road, not counting children.

As though reading his thoughts, Thonas pulled at his horse and it whinnied, getting Gendry's attention. "We have our own throats to protect!" He leaned in and said with a softer voice, "If anyone knew what we have in this cart, they'd slit them and leave our bodies on the road for the buzzards to pick."

It was the truth. They couldn't help those women any more than those women could help them. Gendry took one last look back and sighed.

By the time they made camp, Gendry couldn't sleep in his bedding. He tossed and turned, thinking about the little girl and all of the women and children walking the Kingsroad alone. They would reach the Crossroads Inn within days—Hot Pie and Jeyne would undoubtedly feed the hungry young mouths and do what they could for the women—but would the lot have enough food and water to even make that trip? And the distance to King's Landing was about a fortnight more.

His mind constantly turned back to the girl's words; something about the description unsettled him. Something about a ghost? It bothered him for the rest of the day.

Gendry turned to see Thonas asleep, a string of drool dangling from the corner of his mouth and glistening in the dying firelight. He couldn't quiet his busy head enough to do it, to sleep. He covered his eyes with his forearm and sighed. Ghost.

For a moment, he thought he heard loud breathy sounds from the woods near their camp, but he couldn't be certain with the loud crackling of their campfire. He turned an ear to the direction and concentrated on the distinct sounds around him. It was a heartbeat before he heard a twig snap and then a crunch. It was enough to startle Thonas awake, but the man knew enough not to make a sound and reveal to whoever it was that they were alert.

Something rustled woods just beyond their campfire light causing both Gendry and Thonas to jump to their feet. Then they heard footsteps, multiple footsteps. Thonas already had swords in hands—his natural instinct was to grab them—but it didn't occur to Gendry to reach for his warhammer until that moment.

The footsteps grew louder until they could hear them just at the tree line, and Thonas took a few steps closer to Gendry. "Who's there?" he called out, but there wasn't a response, only the sounds of twigs snapping under feet.

The lower limbs of the trees parted, revealing a long muzzle that Gendry couldn't fathom what kind of beast it belonged to. Leaving the cover of the woods, it revealed itself in the light of their fire. The head alone was intimidating in its size, but to see its entire form was the stuff of nightmares. The fur and general shape was wolf, but it was nearly the size of their horses. It stepped from the wood, and Gendry could make out a form beside it, someone walking alongside it.

Matted hair as wild as her eyes, it was Arya beside the beast, walking side by side as though it were a friend, a trusted companion. Something in his memory struggled to come to the fore as he heard Thonas breathe, "By the Seven. A direwolf."

The beast and woman approached, and Gendry saw the dark splatters across her face, her neck, covering her clothes, and he knew exactly what it was. Blood.

The great beast beside her was of no concern to him nor was the wild look in her eyes. He didn't think about them. His only thought was that she was bleeding and needed his help. He rushed to her, ignoring the low growl that stopped abruptly with the soft stroke of Arya's hand on the beast's shoulder, and Gendry cupped her face in his hands. Her eyes stared beyond him at nothing in particular.

"Arya, are you hurt?"

She didn't answer; she simple continued to stare into the darkness beyond the campfire light. His hands felt her face and neck for fever or bruises; he checked her clothes for holes, for bleeding wounds, any indication of injuries that he could find without her help because he didn't think he would get any as she was. Arya stood in her place, staring.

There were no wounds, nothing to cover her in blood, and yet, there she was covered in it. He cupped her face again and angled it to look up at him. Her eyes followed slowly, but blankly. "Arya?"

She blinked. There was a spark behind her eyes, followed by a few more blinks until finally her eyes focused on him, and the glint of recognition appeared on her face. "Gendry?"

Without hesitation, he pulled her to him and enveloped her in his arm. "It will be done," she said to him, her face against his chest. Her voice was weak, but strangely sounded in awe of her own words. He wanted to ask her what was done, if a slaughter was what awaited them in Winterfell. He wanted her to warn him of what they might be walking into, but he felt her body go limp against his body.

He tightened his grip on her before she slid to the ground, and he lifted her full weight in his arms, carrying her to his bedding. Thonas offered him some water to give to her, and it was only then that he remembered Thonas was there. "It will be done," she repeated, and before her eyes fluttered shut and she slipped into unconsciousness, she breathed the words, "Valar Morghulis."


	16. We Need To Talk

_I hope you'll enjoy. As always, I would like to thank all of the Reviewers, "Favoriters," and Followers out there._

* * *

The night hadn't been easy. For half the night, Gendry lay beside Arya in his bedding staring at the endless sea of stars above, and the other half he stared at his eyelids, cursing quietly how sleep never came.

Arya slept peacefully curled up against the thick fur of Nymeria at her other side. There were no twitches or movements this time, not even soft grunts he'd heard before from her in her sleep. He did find some comfort in having her near him again, but his nerves were on edge, and his mind ran wild with threats of what lurked in the dark around them.

She hadn't regained consciousness since she returned to him, and her words haunted him just as the little girl's words had. Ghost…seek the queen's mercy…it will be done.

He was almost certain she was the ghost of the Twins, but how she managed to kill every man with barely a scratch or scrap made him fear her. She was deadly, something he knew from years ago, but he never imagined she was that deadly.

Thonas must have come to the same conclusion from the way he edged away from her and kept his eyes on her as though she would spring from her unconscious state and kill him. It didn't help that a direwolf, large and very much intimidating, never left her side.

And Gendry couldn't fathom why she would send the women and children on such a long journey to seek the queen's mercy. Arya had never shown much interest in the queen since her return.

But what preoccupied his mind the most was trying to make sense of her words before she slipped into unconsciousness. What will be done?

Throughout the night, he thought to wake her so that they might, just possibly, speak. Not that conversation was easy to come by between them. Arya was action, and he was not a man with a competent tongue...at least, he'd learned from Arya, not with words.

It was before dawn when Arya stirred beside him and rose from their bedding, heading for the trees. Gendry stopped her, holding her hand in his and hoping he could keep her from leaving him; he didn't want to part from her again. He didn't want her to leave again and kill off another House. Their goal of restoring the good name of her family's legacy was already going to be a battle enough for her as a woman without adding more against her. He wasn't savvy with the politics of the highborn, but he knew enough that if you attack one, the others don't tolerate it one bit.

With a warm, almost shy smile, Arya turned to him. She didn't pull away, but her eyes didn't meet his.

The truth of it was that he couldn't keep her tethered to his side, and so he released her hand and watched her disappear into the woods with Nymeria at her side.

Thonas wouldn't allow him to sulk, convincing him that he needed to eat some food and drink water while waiting for the "Lady Assassin" to return, but he wondered if she would.

By the time the sun rose to the edge of the horizon and the soft, new rays of daylight filtered through the sheet of clouds, Arya reappeared without her direwolf. Her wet hair clung to her face and neck, and the blood no longer covered her skin. She now wore leather breeches and a jerkin and a roughspun tunic, fresh clothes free of the blood that covered the clothes bundled in her arms.

Arya mounted the horse they used for riding, and gave Thonas direction to drive the cart. Thonas didn't complain; he considered it a respite for his sore bum and groin, at least that's what he told them, but Gendry wondered how much of his obedience had to do with a possible new fear of her.

Arya waited for Gendry, and it took him a moment to realize she expected him to climb on the horse, that they would share the ride for their day's journey.

It took some very ungraceful effort, but he managed to pull himself up onto the beast and behind Arya; his arms locked firmly around her waist.

Arya's soft scent wafted from her hair to his nose, and Gendry had to suppress the need to lower his face into it and breathe deeply. It was something he'd been denied for days, and yet, there were more important things to do.

"What will be done, Arya? Are we in danger?"

She continued to look ahead, but her body tensed in his arms, her back a little straighter, and her hands gripping the reins tighter. "No more than always," she finally said to him nonchalantly, but then remained quiet, seemingly caught in her own thoughts.

"Gendry?"

His name on her lips was as beautiful as the sweetest song, as soft and vulnerable as it was, and he leaned into her so that she didn't have to raise her voice or change her pitch. He wanted to hear her say his name like that more, and cursed his body for taking such complete control of him.

"Would you still lo…would you still care if you knew the things I've done?"

"What have you done that I don't know?" he asked, not sure if he truly wanted to know.

Her words were still soft and low, but the story they wove was something entirely different. Atop their horse, she described murders of all sorts; so many people died at her hands in the free cities, and the only remorse he could glean from her was that she feared what he would think of her.

And then came the account of the Twins: how she slipped in among the smallfolk looking for work, how she waited until some lord named Black Walder returned for the wedding of a favorite cousin, how she poisoned the food for the wedding feast, sparing only that reserved for the children's meal.

Arya methodically made her way to each door of each chamber, slitting the throats of the men who had survived the poisoning, some alert and confused but most lost in a fog of sleep. Most women survived because ladies were always encouraged to eat very little.

There was one chamber Arya entered where the woman was fully alert. She hadn't eaten a morsel of the meal, dreading her wedding night with her new husband known for being a cruel man. And he was, especially to her that night. She sat on the bed next to the lump of man that was her new husband with her arms tightly wrapped around her drawn legs, bruises blossomed all along her body and blood at her thighs.

Her husband beside her was still alive, the rise and fall of his chest could be seen from the door, and when Arya offered the knife and the opportunity, the woman didn't hesitate to cut his throat wide open. It was an ugly thing to see because it was not done with the finesse of her skilled hands but with the angry, resentful hands of a woman abused.

Arya then gave her one last action to follow: take the remaining women and children to King's Landing and seek the mercy of Queen Daenerys.

"Children died?"

The sound of her answer was simple, yet strained. "Yes." It was at that moment that she decided to turn and face him, as best she could on their horse, and forced herself to look him in the eye. "I tried to spare as many as I could. It had to be done, Gendry." She then turned back to face the road and breathed the words he'd heard from her the night before. "Valar Morghulis."

He tasted the bile rise up his throat when he thought of children dying in her war, and the rage swelled and struggled to break free to demand she answer all of his questions, particularly what in the hells was "valar morghulis?" He wrestled with it, not wanting to lose his temper with her, and almost lost when a man stepped out of the trees ahead of them.

Their horse, startled by the unexpected intruder, whinnied and reared, and Gendry held Arya tighter.

Other men stepped out of the woods around them with smug smiles and leisurely gaits, effectively blocking the road.

"What have we here? Two men…and a woman?"

Another eyed Arya and Gendry didn't have to follow his line of sight to see that his eyes were on her chest and how the jerkin she wore did little to hide her bosom. "Definitely a woman, I'd say. Think she's the one?"

The men around them took moments to consider them, and Gendry eyed Thonas still on the cart and reaching for one of his swords when one of the men leveled a long blade to his neck, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Arya took Gendry's hand and gave it a squeeze before she gently shifted her leg over the horse and slid down with all the grace and dignity of the highborn that she was. "Are you here to escort me?" she asked them with such a sweet, innocent voice and demure bearing, Gendry had to remind himself that it was Arya.

One of the men raised an eyebrow and a slow smile spread across his dirty, stubbled face. "So you _are_ Lady Arya," he said as he gave a bow that was too low and too grand to be anything but mocking.

"Yes. I am Lady Arya Stark of Winterfell. And I am so relieved that you have come to help escort me." She flitted her way to the man's side and touched his arm gently. "It has been an awful experience having to wear these clothes," she said as she gestured to her breeches, jerkin, and tunic, "But my good brother told me it would be safer than a gown and a wheelhouse."

"Ah…yes…well…" the man stammered as he scratched the back of his neck, visibly relaxing that they had nothing more to contend with than a simpering lady and only two protectors. And it wasn't him alone; relaxation seemed to spread among the men as more revealed themselves from the wood. These men obviously didn't have any good intentions, and there were far too many far too interested in studying Arya's curves on display by her menswear for Gendry's liking.

Suddenly, the men in front of Arya staggered backward, spooked by something they'd seen on her face that Gendry couldn't see, and in the next moment Nymeria bounded out of the trees and attacked two of the men, already targeting her third victim. That left seven.

Thonas hopped off of the cart with both swords drawn and took on four of the men nearest him while the men closest to Arya attacked after recovering from their stunned moment. By that point, she'd already drawn Needle from the saddle of the horse, spun with such grace it could have easily been mistaken for floating on air, and slit the throat of the closest man to her, ending with her fighting stance. They laughed until the first man dropped to the ground with blood everywhere.

"Bitch!" one cried as he rushed at her, his sword high over him and nothing but rage in his eyes. Somehow, some way, Gendry was there with his warhammer with no memory of dismounting the horse or reaching for his weapon, and stopped the sword in its stroke downward before it could even come close to Arya between them. The force felt as though it would wrench his arm from his body, but he held firm.

In front of him, Arya crouched low and sliced the man at the knees which a dagger she always kept strapped to her thigh, hidden inside her clothes, and stabbed him in the heart before another could even reach them. Gendry swung his hammer and the second man fell back and twitched.

A third came at them, bigger than Gendry and deadlier looking than Arya, but Gendry swung his hammer at him as well. This time the man pulled back and missed the swing, but Arya twirled as though she were dancing, slashing several times at his chest and belly. Catching the man stunned by his wounds, that's when Gendry swung his hammer a second time and hit his mark. The man fell to the ground and didn't move. For good measure, Arya slit his throat.

They both stood back to back and surveyed the scene around them. Nymeria panted over her five kills while Thonas was finishing his second. Gendry could barely breathe; he couldn't think. He just knew that he was still alive and Arya was still alive and in that moment, he wanted to prove it. Without a thought to what was right or wrong or sane, Gendry grabbed Arya's arm and pulled her to him and lifted her by the waist, then crushed his lips to hers. She didn't protest or fight him; she let him do it. In fact, her arms wrapped around his neck and deepened their kiss.

He didn't care how Thonas swore or how many bodies were strewn around them or that Nymeria began to tear at their flesh, chewing as she went. He had her in his arms, and they were alive. And by the Seven he was going to revel in that miracle.


	17. A Woman and Her Smith

_Thanks to all of the reviewer, "favoriters," and followers out there!_

* * *

After the attack on the road, they spent the rest of the day traveling north to put as much distance between the carnage and themselves as possible, and they didn't stop until the sun had gone down completely with too little light from the moon to even consider continuing.

With Nymeria's help, they found a spot to camp just off of the road and this time Gendry started the fire. Usually, he was the one to gather the wood. "Put those big arms of yours to good use," Thonas would say, but he was also the best at starting fires in almost complete darkness, something he'd learned to do apprenticing to Tobho Mott.

It was so quiet around the fire, each of them lost in their thoughts of what had happened to them on the road, and what it meant for them and their futures. Arya crouched in her spot and stared at the fire, eyes blazing just as much, absentmindedly scratching a spot behind her direwolf's ear.

Thonas was the one to break them from the inward thoughts. "Who were they?"

"Not a sigil to be found on them. Could've been those loyal to the Freys," she said, then added with a lesser breath, "if there are any left. I doubt that, though." Arya stood, her direwolf standing with her, and stared into the flames with an intensity that gave Gendry a chill along his spine.

"I plan to knight the two of you when we reach Cerwyn," she told them without looking beyond the fire.

"Me? A knight?" Thonas said then whistled. "Do you know how easily clothing slips from women's bodies at the mere mention of the title 'ser'?"

That pulled Arya from her focus on the fire toward Thonas. "Don't force me to rethink it."

As a sign that he hadn't meant any offense, Thonas lifted his hands as if to yield and reached for his swords, starting his routine of cleaning, sharpening, cleaning the blades.

Arya's gaze immediately shifted to Gendry, and he knew why. Knighthood was one step closer to the world of noblemen, a position he wanted no part of. Even in the dim firelight and the darkness around them, he could see her eyebrows quirk upward in helplessness and her proud stance faltered for a heartbeat. Her jaw clenched, and she said to him words that hit him as though she'd just struck him across the head with one of the pieces of firewood.

"I'm sorry Gendry, but I have to. I plan to name you the Castellan of Winterfell." Her gaze dropped to the ground in front of her. "And Thonas will be Master-at-arms," she added, but that didn't register to him as deeply as the words before.

Gendry heard a choking sound coming from Thonas's direction, but he didn't look at his friend; he didn't look away from Arya for even a moment. He couldn't think clearly as he tried to grasp what she was telling him. His eyes locked with hers at that, and he tried to force a smile that he wasn't sure he succeeded in achieving. "I guess I can be a knight. It's not like I'll be a lord, but I don't know the first thing of what a castellan is or does."

She rushed to him, knelt before him, and took his hands in hers. "And I don't know how to be a lady, but we can learn to do it our way. We can teach them what real nobility can be, Gendry." This time, her intense gaze was directed at him. Eyes wide and looking as worried as he'd ever seen her, he knew she feared he wouldn't accept it. But how could he not? Didn't she know that he would move mountains for her if he could? That he would give himself to the whim of his uncle and the red witch for her. That she was his reason to wake every morn. Didn't she know that her words, telling of how she wanted him in her life, was worth more to him than his hatred of lords and ladies and castles?

So when he withdrew his hands from hers, she flinched at the perceived rejection and dropped her gaze. He quickly cupped her face, insisting that she meet his gaze again. "I'll be what you need me to be," was all he could say before he pressed his lips to hers.

The muscles along her jaw relaxed, and she moaned into the kiss. She'd given herself to the kiss wholly, which was why it surprised him when she pulled away and stood, but didn't move a step more away. She just stood there and looked down at him for a long moment before unstrapping and unbuttoning her jerkin and then tossed it aside; her tunic quickly followed.

He froze in his spot; he could do nothing but look up at the glorious, half-naked wild woman before him. The only thing he could pull himself together long enough to do was reach out and wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him. It wasn't until he heard Thonas's exasperated cry, "Oh Seven Hells!" that he remembered his friend was still near them. The clank and clatter of metal and whetstone hitting the ground and the sound of feet stomping heavily, moving away from them told him all he needed to know: Thonas was fed up with them again and left the camp.

Gendry didn't care. Thonas would forgive them when he had plenty of women to bed with the title "ser" to his name. All Gendry wanted was one woman. All he would ever want would be one woman, and if he had to prance around in the world of noblemen to have her, he would willingly.

Nuzzling the smooth, firm skin of her belly, he could have stayed this way, holding her like this for the rest of the night, but it seemed Arya had other plans. He felt a tug at the shoulders of his tunic and when he pulled back, she pulled the thing over his head forcefully. He untied the thong of her breeches and allowed it to drop down to her feet and he worshipped the patch of dark curls leading to his sacred place.

Soft and inviting, he had to touch her, to feel his fingers slide through the curls and part her. To give him better access, she parted her legs and he gently slipped his two fingers between her folds that won him a gasp from her. He brushed against the knot, the one he'd learned gave her so much pleasure, and was rewarded with another gasp, then a moan.

He looked up to see her head back and her eyes closed. This is what he learned to do for her, when he was too quick and she wasn't done, this could finish her. In fact, he'd learned that he could help her find her pleasure in it multiple times if done to her liking.

With the moisture already there, he slipped further, deeper until his fingers came to her opening and then he dipped them as far as they could go, marveling at the proof of her need for him.

Her fingers ran through his hair and grabbed a fistful as he felt and fondled his way to her completion. With one hand he held her hip steady while with the other he held firmly against the pulsing heat of her release. She began to sway, and he pulled her down to kneel with him. It didn't take long for her fingers to work at the thong of his breeches and slide them down his thighs to his knees.

And when he tried to stand, to remove his breeches fully, she pulled him back down and wrapped her arms about his neck, curling into his lap with legs smoothly surrounding him.

They both ignored the cold nose sniffing near their arms and faces, or when it huffed loudly and blew warm air at them. Nymeria would understand eventually that her human companion had more pressing matters. And she did, quietly walking away and curling into a spot near them by the campfire's warmth.

Arya eased down on him, rounding her hips to slip him into position, and the feel of her enveloping him slowly and fully was enough for his eyes to roll back and his jaw to slacken. "Gods woman, you'll be the death of me."

"Say it again," she commanded as she continued downward, the words tight and strained on her lips.

It wasn't as though he had the ability to think beyond the feel of her warm and wet and tight around him, but he managed to repeat himself. "You'll be the death of me."

"No," she breathed hard and then produced the sweetest moan as she lifted herself up from his length before continuing, "woman. Call me woman."

"Woman?" He was confused, and in truth, the last thing he wanted was to think at the moment. The words tumbled out of his mouth along with others that were more fragments of thoughts and feelings, "Woman…my woman…my wild, wondrous, beautiful woman." His voice clipped and cracked as his mouth and his cock fought for total control of his body while she slid back down on him with more speed and force.

But the words only spurred her onward, rocking her hips atop him, lifting herself slightly from him with her strong legs and picking up her pace. Her face scrunched with purpose, working very hard toward her end. Her grunts and moans, along with how so very tight and so very warm she was, gripping him despite how wet she was for him, brought him closer to his.

It wasn't long before her back ached, her head dropped back with her lips parted, and her hands clawed at his shoulders. By the Seven, if not for wanting to make this last, he would have spilled his seed into her at the mere sight of her. He loved watching her like this; he missed watching her float down from her peak. It didn't help that her inner spasms pulsed and massaged his cock in incredible ways.

"My bull-headed smith," she breathed, still in the throes of her pleasure.

He wanted to hear it again. He wanted to hear those words on her lips again, so he pulled her down to him and leaned her back to the ground so that he hovered above her, then scooped her shoulders into his arms. Still inside her, he pulled his hips back and fought his own pleasure to watch her react to the feeling. "Say it again," he commanded her, and she didn't argue or reject it. In fact she purred, "My bull-headed smith."

With her response, he snapped his hips forward causing her to gasp. Then she mewled, "My bull-headed smith."

The words were exactly what he wanted to hear as he pulled back and thrust into her again, causing her to repeat the words that were already bringing him close again. He continued this way until he was sure she was close, writhing and panting below him, repeating over and over that he was hers, he was her bull-headed smith.

And when he knew she was so near her peak, he allowed himself to give in to his own pleasure. His hips moved of their own accord and he reveled in the scent of Arya in his nose, her skin smooth and slick with sweat in his arms, and her so very warm and tight around his cock until his release came quick and strong. There was no room for anything or anyone in this moment than Arya, and he held her tightly to him as though afraid she would disappear.

For a long moment, he was lost in the rush of his release and when the fog cleared, he realized his full weight was on her. With what little strength he had left, Gendry pulled himself up only to have Arya pull him back down, curling her arms around him. He did manage to slide down so that he could rest his head on her chest and listened to her rapid heartbeat slowly work its way to a steadier rhythm.

He didn't feel like dressing for Thonas's benefit. Instead, he simply reached for their blanket and pulled it over himself, covering them both. After all that had happened this day, not to mention the whole journey from Casterly Rock, this was how he wanted to fall asleep: in her arms.

* * *

The birds were chirping to the new morn by the time Gendry roused from his sleep, and when he opened his eyes, there was no Arya beside him. Across the fire Thonas slept soundly in his bed roll, but there wasn't even a sign of Nymeria. He sat upright with his knees bent and arms resting on them, the blanket draped across his middle.

Had she left him? Would she leave him again?

It was then that he heard the rustling in the brush near their camp, and Arya stepped out of it with Nymeria close beside her. The direwolf seemed as attached to her as he was, as desperate to keep Arya as close to her as possible. If only he could be so lucky.

Arya continued to walk toward him, wringing water out from her hair onto the ground.

"You're awake," she said as though she hadn't expected him to be. Squatting next to him and with a thick cloth in her hand, she grabbed a clay jug Gendry recognized to be the very one that had carried Thonas's ale from the Crossroads Inn. The very one he'd emptied over two days ago. Unnoticed until that moment, it was propped upright against the fire.

There were three cups, fairly well-made, nearby as well. From the look of them, they weren't meant for travel but someone's home, and he wondered if she stole it from where she'd been.

She filled one of the cups with the heated water for him. Before she held it out to him, she'd plopped a wooden stick into it, strange and brown and curled into itself. As he sipped it and tasted the pleasant earthy flavor, he watched as she pinched some of her herbs into her own cup of heated water.

"Is that moon tea?" he asked as heat crept up his neck all the way to his ears and cheeks. "Thonas told me more about it, but he said you shouldn't drink it so often."

Arya's eyes darted in his direction for a heartbeat before looking away and drawing the cup away from her lips. "The herbs don't make moon tea, but the result's the same. Moon tea forces a woman's blood, and the more taken, the harder it is on the body. My blend's milder, but must be taken daily."

He would've preferred the wonders of women's bodies to remain a mystery, but to assure himself that she kept his seed from taking root in her belly and that she wouldn't harm herself in the process, he had to ask. "Good. Can't have any bastards running around Winterfell." He tried to sound as light-hearted as he could about it, but saying those words aloud hurt more than just knowing it as the truth.

A hard edge formed in Arya's eyes, and she stopped drinking her tea. "I'd rather birth ten decent bastards than one pompous lordling!" she forced out through gritted teeth, then gulped her tea and wiped her mouth with the back of the same hand. The next thing he knew, she was standing over him, and her cup hit the ground in front of him with a loud thunk and bounced to the side.

Before she could storm away from him completely, he grabbed hold of her wrist. "When all's said and done, I think bastards have it worse than those having no name at all." If only he could make her understand how his life turned to shit because of being a bastard. His apprenticeship was, more than likely, also because of his bastard status, but it was nothing more than a small detail in a greater picture. What's an apprenticeship when people want to kill you before you have a chance to use your skill?

"I stand by my words," she said, then yanked her hand from his to walk away from him and toward the cart. The last thing he heard from her was, "Wake Thonas. It's time to leave."


	18. The Voice of Winterfell

_Thanks to all of the Reviewers, "Favoriters," and Followers out there. Followers remind me that there are more than five people reading this story, "favoriters" give me hope that I'm continuing in a direction people actually like, and reviews and PMs give me the feedback that's been invaluable as I chug along (from the detailed to the one word review, it let's me know something of what you're thinking out there)._ _And remember, I can only reply to signed in reviews. I do reply._

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Having spent days sitting behind her on their horse, Arya hadn't said a word to him since their discussion about babes and bastards and her tea. Ten days, and the rift between them had remained the same. Each day, he reminded himself that he had every right to say those words, even if she didn't want to hear them, even if she had some strange notion of how it was good and "noble" to be a bastard. Each day he would feel his skin prickle and itch with annoyance of how she dared to tell him how much better bastards were.

He was a bastard—a fat, drunk and very dead king's bastard—and was nearly killed then nearly sacrificed on a pyre for it. And the bits and pieces that she told him of her bastard half-brother's life were not much better.

Still, when her body went rigid with his arms around her waist whenever they rode together, or when she refused to even look his way in their camp at night, or when she wouldn't speak to him no matter how he tried to start safely idle conversation, it killed him a little each day. The worst was when she no longer slept with him, choosing to curl into Nymeria's furry form some distance away from him. It killed him all the same, no matter how true his words to her were that day.

"Arya," he said her name pleadingly in her ear as they spent yet another day on the damned horse, "I'm sorry." His words that day were the truth—they both knew it—but he couldn't continue as they had.

She shifted in the saddle and turned to look at him. At that moment, her eyes reminded him of gentle rainclouds with not a trace of the hard, steely glint often found in them. He could see the forgiveness in them, and her lips parted to say the words that would end his misery when Thonas called out to them, "Cerwyn!"

Arya turned to look in the direction of where Thonas pointed, and there it was, the small castle in the middle of the northern wilds. In his mind, he cursed Castle Cerwyn, Thonas, and the damned horse that made his groin ache from the constant riding. Whatever moment he managed to form with her, the circumstance where peace could be made between them, it disappeared at the first sight of their destination.

Her eyes focused ahead, watching the men on horseback approach them at full gallop. Escorts for the Lady Arya Stark was how they introduced themselves. Unlike the men on the road days ago, these men were dressed in armor that was finely made, even if a bit worn.

By the time they reached the castle walls, the bustle and excitement behind them could be heard. The gate opened at their approach revealing a man with much the same look as Arya: same brown color of hair, grey eyes and shape of face. His expression was somber, and at his side stood a direwolf of Nymeria's size, if not slightly bigger, with cloud-white fur and demon red eyes. Arya did tell him years ago that each Stark child had a direwolf, but he'd never seen such a creature as the one at the gates.

Necks craned and heads bobbed with people in the background as the smallfolk surrounded the inner gate, keeping their distance from the man and direwolf but desperate for a glimpse of the Lady Arya.

Bounding toward the man and wolf, Nymeria stopped in front of the man first, sniffed, then stood in front of the direwolf. Both sniffed and considered each other for a long moment before it seemed they agreed neither was a threat. There was some familiarity in the way they interacted, and Gendry wondered if they remembered they'd been littermates.

It was then that Nymeria turned and raced for the tree line at the edge of the nearby forest. It had to have been the Wolfswood described to him once, the woodland bordering the east of both Cerwyn and Winterfell.

The white direwolf considered Nymeria's direction, looked toward the man standing beside him, and raced towards the woods as well. Unlike Nymeria's deep, rumbling pants and heavy footfalls, this direwolf made no sound at all.

"Jon?" Arya breathed which confirmed what Gendry had already suspected: the man standing at the gate to welcome them was her half-brother, the bastard Stark.

She shimmied out of Gendry's arms and leapt off of the horse with her usual ease, and as soon as her feet hit the ground, she darted towards her brother. The man's expression softened, and he smiled with his arms held out widely, welcoming the woman barreling toward him, colliding into an embrace.

They stayed this way for the whole time it took Gendry and Thonas to reach them: their arms wrapped tightly around the other, Arya's head nestled into his chest, his lips kissing the crown of her head. For the first time, Gendry could truly see Arya as someone's little sister.

Even when they were younger, when he knew she was the little sister of the King in the North, he had a hard time picturing her this way. She was always in control, always taking lead of the moment, but in the arms of Jon Snow he glimpsed the girl Arya had once told him was called "Arya Underfoot."

By the time he and Thonas reached the two, Arya made the effort to pull away from him and try to regain her composure. She wiped a tear from her cheek and smiled at Jon while tilting her head in Thonas and Gendry's direction, "Tyrion sent word of them?"

When Jon nodded, she began the introductions. "This is Thonas," she said as she pointed to the cart's driver then pointed to the rider of the horse, "and this is Gendry."

The bastard Stark gave Thonas a nod of acknowledgment, but when she said Gendry's name, Jon's entire demeanor changed: his body went rigid, his eyes locked hard on him, and his hands balled into tight fists. There was a distinct possibility that the man would try to hit Gendry at any moment.

Oblivious to the changes in her half-brother—or seemingly so since Arya rarely missed anything in body language—she continued, "This is my brother, Jon Snow," but the man's eyes remained cold and hard on Gendry.

There was no doubt, however, that Thonas did see the changes. Clearing his throat and speaking up, he managed to draw the attention away from Gendry and to himself. "Mind if we get this cart from the out and open?"

"Yes, of course," Jon nodded, relaxing only slightly as he led them to where they would store the cart.

"It's been so long…" the Lady Jonella Cerwyn welcomed while approaching them from the opposite side of the courtyard, "…Arya." Behind her there were servants carrying platters of turnip chips and wine. She didn't, however, signal them to offer Arya, Gendry, or Thonas the food and drink until Jon gave an answering nod to her questioning look. As the three ate and drank, Thonas eating more than a handful of the chips and drinking far more than a sip, the Lady Jonella forced a smile and welcomed them fully into her castle.

There was a girl, couldn't be more than two and ten, and a man waiting for them by Lady Cerwyn's side. "Rellie will show you to your chambers, Lady Arya, and assist you into proper attire. And your men—"

Before the Lady Cerwyn could finish her sentence, Jon Snow interrupted with his request, "If you don't mind, Lady Jonella, I can show Arya's men to their rooms."

"Of course," the Lady nodded as though she was relieved by his gesture, lifting her silk gown off of the ground, turning, and immediately leaving the courtyard. The girl, Rellie, started to lead Arya away when Jon took hold of Arya's arm, and in response her eyes flashed a hint of anger before they softened. Lucky for him she accepted what might have gotten a man of lesser importance to her gutted.

His words were barely more than a whisper, but Gendry could still hear them. "The northern lords are waiting for you. It's important to not take too long Arya. It's very important."

Gendry thought it was strange how he stressed the importance of the meeting of the lords as though Arya didn't know, but then he remembered how Jon knew the Arya before, the more innocent Arya. He knew the Arya that didn't take her duties seriously, and Gendry felt badly for the brother who was so unaware of how a little sister he'd known so well died long ago.

As though she understood this sad truth as well, no anger flashed in her eyes, and there was no hard set of resentment in her jaw; there was simply a warm, loving smile as her hand cupped his cheek. "Yes, brother," she said to him before turning and following Rellie into the Keep.

Jon Snow led their way into the Keep and remained silent for the entire duration. The first room they came upon Jon Snow explained was Thonas's, and when his friend opened the door and entered, his eyes bulged as they took in the opulence of the room, at least opulent by the standards Thonas was used to. Gendry, however, had had a similar room in Casterly Rock.

The man started to laugh nervously, and Gendry wondered if the prospect of finer living had broken his friend.

"Seven hells, Gendry! If I'd known I'd be living like this, I wouldn't 've minded all those nights with you and the La…dy…" Thonas stopped and cleared his throat while Jon Snow inhaled sharply. Both Gendry and Thonas eyed the man as though he was a beast about to attack, but he only closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath.

Without a word, Jon started to walk down the passageway. Thonas shrugged and gave him an apologetic look before Gendry did the only thing he could do: follow Arya's half-brother.

When they were well away from Thonas's door, Jon Snow muttered something to him that Gendry didn't quite catch. "Do you know what Arya has in store for you?" he repeated.

"To knight me and make me Castellan of Winterfell," Gendry answered, knowing fully his confusion seeped through his voice. He wanted it to be there because he _was_ confused and worried and a dozen other emotions tied to Arya and her damned plans.

"And do you know what that means for you?" the man asked him while they continued their walk.

"Not at all. I told Arya as much, but she seems so…" He couldn't think of the word for it, for her determination to bestow him with knighthood and some position that he had no idea existed until she said it. What in the hells did a castellan do?

Jon Snow chuckled to himself. "That sounds like Arya."

They stopped at a door, and he gestured for Gendry to open it. He was going to tell her half-brother of how he didn't think her decision was a wise one. How she needed people who understood nobility, but when the door swung open, the words stuck in his throat and choked him. He had to cough several times to right himself and took a tentative step into the room as wide-eyed as Thonas had with the other room.

An elegantly carved bed layered with beautifully embroidered blankets and pillows was in the center of what looked to be a room large enough to house three full families in Flea Bottom. It was far more than the room he was given in Casterly Rock, but with its size and finery, it did remind him of the room where the red witch had…no, that was a different room, he reminded himself. Although it did nothing to stave off the chill that crept up his spine.

Gendry turned to Jon Snow questioningly. "There's been some mistake. This room is a lord's room."

The man took a sweeping look around with a slightly amused grin then focused squarely on him. "For all intents and purposes, you're going to be the Castellan of Winterfell, the voice of Arya as she is the Lady of Winterfell. Therefore, you will be the voice of Winterfell. And because she is a woman, you're voice as a man may, at times and to many lords, have more weight than hers. In essence, Gendry, you will be the closest thing to the Lord of Winterfell…until Arya marries."

The words hit him in the gut and squeezed the air out of his chest. He had to hold on to the door for balance as he tried to stop the room from spinning and silence the ringing in his ears. "Closest thing to the Lord of Winterfell?" he repeated numbly.

He didn't know what was worse: that he would have that kind of position and responsibility or that when he was finally relieved of it, it also meant that he would lose Arya.

"Speaking of intents and purpose," Jon Snow said carefully after taking in his reaction, "I wondered what your intentions were with Arya. If she were more like Sansa I would still wonder, but she's Arya. There's some difference, now. I see it, but she's still Arya. So I have to wonder what intentions she has for you."

There was nothing he could say, absolutely nothing. Even though he was the closest person to Arya, of that he was certain, Gendry knew there were still hidden facets that he didn't know. In truth, he came to the realization that he may never know them.

Jon Snow took one last glance around the room before leaving, closing the door behind him. Gendry felt the walls of the cavernously large room closing in on him.

* * *

Gendry sat at the foot of the bed with his head in his hands for what seemed like half the day. There was a soft click followed by the sound of footsteps, then another soft click. He didn't have to look up to know who it was.

"I didn't think you would come to me," he said to her flatly without lifting his head. There was a long silence until finally Gendry couldn't take it any longer and looked up at her. She stood at the door in a lady's gown of silk and her hair styled in a very simple, yet pleasing fashion, fidgeting under his gaze. His first reaction, the one of which he had little control, was the twitch of his cock followed by the rapid thumping in his chest.

He ignored his body. "What do you expect of me, Arya? What are your plans for me?"

Smoothing out the wrinkles along the bottom of her gown in frustration, she said to him with an exasperated sigh, "If the northern lords should get only one glimpse of the lady they expect rather than the one they'll get, I suppose it should be my reintroduction to the northern nobility."

"I asked you a question, woman!" he spat as he bolted from the bed. "What is it you expect of me? Your brother told me what a castellan does, what I'll be." His words only stoked the fire inside him that was ignited by memories resurfacing and the fears of what his future title meant. He was emotionally and physically weary. And to make matters worse, his body couldn't decide if it wanted to be angry or aroused. Either way, his path to her was quick and predatory, pushing his way into her personal space. She didn't back away, and there was no fear in her eyes.

In fact, she leaned forward, pushing further into his personal space with her head cocked to the side, daring him to challenge her further. "I thought you would be whatever I needed you to be?" And she poked a finger into his chest for good measure.

Reminded of his own words, Gendry lost much of the anger that had festered into something close to resentment while sitting on the bed thinking of his future role. His shoulders slumped in defeat. "You slip in and out of the skin of one person to the next without much effort." He noticed a slight quirk of her eyebrow and a twitch at one corner of her mouth at that, but he continued on. "An assassin, a friendly serving woman, a helpless lady, a little sister. You said you would never lie to me, Arya. So I ask you, who are you when you stand here before me?"

For a moment, so quick it could have been his imagination, Gendry thought he saw fear flicker across her face as she pulled at her lower lip with her teeth. She no longer leaned into him threateningly and her shoulders slumped in defeat to match his; her gaze fell to her feet.

He wouldn't allow her to leave him without an answer, even if it would cost him his life. He watched her carefully as she lifted her head and stared to the side of them, her eyes focusing on anything and everything but him until she finally muttered in a voice barely more than a whisper, "A woman in love."

For what seemed like eternity, Gendry lost all control of his body. He felt his jaw slacken and his mouth gape; he felt his body quake and his ears thumped with his pulse as he watched Arya standing before him almost shyly. The declaration had made her vulnerable.

Since she'd asked him about it, he wondered if what he felt for her was love, having barely grasped the meaning of the word. The idea that someone would feel it for him was never truly important to him, but for Arya to feel it for him…

He scooped her into his arms, covering her face with kisses and nuzzling into the hair behind her ear, all the while desperately trying to keep the water in his eyes at bay.

He pressed his forehead to hers and struggled to breathe since his chest couldn't seem to take in enough air. They stayed this way for quite some time before Gendry set her feet back onto the floor.

Their eyes met, and Arya unfastened the clasp of her gown, never retreating from his gaze. Gendry slid half of her gown and her shift off of her shoulder until it gathered at her elbow, making sure to caress her smooth skin along the way. Her breast was still hidden from him, but it made no difference. He kissed her shoulder, his tongue tasting, his teeth nipping all the way down to the curve of the breast now revealed to him. The peak was pebble hard, and he cradled it with the flat of his tongue at the same moment a knock came from the door.

Gendry jumped back from her as Arya quickly righted her gown and refastened the clasp in three heartbeats. He froze in his place as she made her way to the door and opened it. Jon Snow walked in and considered the two of them, mostly Arya, for a long moment. His hand reached out and returned a lock of hair to its place in her simple braided style. "I thought I would find you here," he said to her before walking toward Gendry.

It was only then that Gendry noticed the clothes draped across Jon Snow's arm that also carried a bucket of water. "It's why I told the servant I would bring these for you, Gendry," he handed them to him then turned to Arya. "You're needed in the Great Hall, Arya. Gendry and I have some preparations to attend to."

Arya didn't bother to hide her disappointment, even as she curtsied exaggeratedly to both and left the room.

Jon Snow turned to Gendry and sighed, "The two of you play a dangerous game."

"Arya makes the plans and plays the game," Gendry replied while filling a wash basin with water and splashing his face with it. Having Jon Snow interrupt them dampened his need for the man's sister, but the cold water helped further. He was still nervous when he thought of his role in her plans, but his mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of Arya, reveling in the pride and warmth in his chest as he thought of her words to him. "I can only hope they don't get her killed and try to help keep her safe while she makes them."

Jon Snow nodded in full agreement.

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_So this kicks off the political section of the story. There are a lot of players and details at work here. I'm trying to keep them organized, but being realistic, there are going to be mistakes. _W_hen I mess up a description here or a detail there, just know that I've already used them in my overall story plan so it's unlikely that I'll be able to correct them. In other words consider mistakes as AU__ changes__.  
_


	19. The Noble North

_This chapter was a bit difficult for me. This section of it was far less problematic, but the other half is still a bit of a bear. Time was ticking so I decided to split it and post this half.  
_

_As always, thanks to all of the Reviewers, "Favoriters," and Followers out there. You guys are a constant reminder that there are people out there waiting for the rest of the story, so my tendency to put writing toward the bottom of my ever expanding todo list can't be done all of the time.  
_

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The Great Hall of Cerwyn Castle was not very great, at least compared to the only other Great Hall Gendry had ever seen in Casterly Rock. Packed with ladies and lords and their servants high and low, it seemed even smaller.

Given to him earlier by Jon—that's what Arya's half-brother allowed Gendry to call him, now—his new clothes with supple leathers and a thick fur lining about his collar were far warmer and finer than his old traveling clothes.

The sea of people parted to make a path for Gendry, Thonas, and Jon. At the end of it were Lady Cerwyn atop the small flight of stairs leading to the dais, and at the bottom, Arya awaited them in her lady's gown and simply styled hair; simple styles seemed typical for northern noblewomen considering the women around them.

Jon followed behind him and Thonas, urging them forward, and Gendry eyed the people surrounding them. Nobles. The very people he swore to hate with every leech placed on his body years ago. These were the people he cursed for their useless wars and endless need for power. And these were the people he would have to work with for the betterment of Arya's house and lands.

At either side of them, as they made their slow march towards Arya, women and men of all stations in life studied them carefully. Some men looked upon them with uncertainty, while others with an unhidden curiosity. Among the women, their gazes ranged from curious, to lust-filled, to wonder as one would look upon a newborn. But among them all, strangely, none looked upon them with disdain, even though they were lowborns to be knighted into their world.

Their positions would elevate them as equals or higher for many in the room. And as Jon explained to him, his status would give him equal, if not a higher standing than the lords in attendance. He would be their closest thing to a lord of the Great House of the North, even if only temporarily. That thought weighed on him so heavily that he hesitated with each step.

His shoulders felt heavy and slumped as a thought repeated in his head: he'd spent most of his life in Flea Bottom, and some of that in hiding. How was he going to do this? His body shivered as the fear crept up his spine that he would only make matters worse. If they were to rebuild Winterfell, he would be the cause of its destruction this time around, and possibly the death of Arya.

Jon whispered from behind, "She's waiting for you," with an encouraging tone, obviously noticing his hesitation, but it was the small nudge he needed to shift his thoughts from the uncertain future to what he was sure of in the here and now.

His eyes were no longer on the lords and ladies and their servants around him, but on Arya ahead of him. There she stood in all of her beautiful and vibrant glory, and he heard her words in his head. She loved him. She was in love with him. She chose him for more than sharing her bed. He no longer hesitated. The oppressive weight of class and status was all but forgotten as he now had to restrain himself because he wanted so desperately to rush to her, take her in his arms, and hold her close again. Rules of nobility be damned to the Seven Hells. She was his woman. A woman as fiery and wild and beautiful as Arya was truly his.

When the men reached her, Jon whispered in back of them, "kneel," and took his place by Arya's side. Both did as they were told without question.

"Gendry and Thonas, do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to protect your captains, your liege lady and your Queen, to fight bravely when needed, and do such other tasks that are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?"

He answered, "I do, m'lady," and heard Thonas answer the same.

Arya stepped forward until she stood directly before Gendry and rested Needle on his shoulder. She moved Needle from his right shoulder to his left and said to him, "Arise, Ser Gendry, knight and castellan of Winterfell." He did, and as was her privilege as a lady, she stepped forward, lifted herself on her toes, and kissed his cheek while whispering "Ser Gendry _my_ Smith." She then kissed his other cheek and whispered, "My bull-headed smith."

Her breath was warm, heated and dripping with her need for him, and Gendry felt his entire body flush with warmth. Unfortunately, there was a warmth and stirring in a place he would rather not have displayed for the lords and ladies around them. It caused the heat to accumulate at the edges of his ears with his embarrassment and wondered how red his skin had gotten. He wondered even more when Jon rolled his eyes and dropped his head, hiding the hint of an amused grin.

She moved on to Thonas and placed Needle at his right shoulder then to his left, "Arise Ser Thonas, knight and Master-at-arms of Winterfell." Thonas stood and turned his head to the side, jutting his jaw in her direction with purpose, and Gendry knew fully what the man expected. Gendry felt his blood begin to boil, but then thought more on the man's actions. The gesture for one had to be done for the other, else his relationship with Arya would be clear to all around them. Arya took a deep breath and kissed both Thonas's cheeks, but before she withdrew, she whispered something to him that made his face ashen.

Although the others around him may have thought that the broad smile across Gendry's face was all due to his new titles, he smiled because he knew Thonas had been reminded of what Arya could do to him when they didn't have witnesses about. He understand why Thonas did what he did, but he didn't have to like it and he didn't want the man to get too comfortable and bold.

"Well, now that that's out'a the way, can we get to business?" an old man with a red face, a strange old and tattered fur for a cloak, and one eye covered with a patch asked Arya. She turned to the Lady Cerwyn and nodded. In turn, the Lady Cerwyn nodded to everyone in attendance. "Let us discuss it, then."

People took seats and stood around the table at the side of the Great Hall, and it seemed to be some pattern as to who sat or stood where. Gendry and Thonas looked at each other and then at the table, completely at a loss as to where they could or should sit until a strong hand grasped Gendry's shoulder hard.

Jon stood in front of them with an unreadable look on his face, and finally motioned his head for them to follow. He spoke in a normal tone, but with so many voices speaking at once, Gendry could barely hear him. "You are the Castellan of Winterfell," he said to Gendry with his head low and barely tilted toward him. He then shifted his head slightly toward Thonas. "And you are the Master-at-arms. Your places in these talks are to always be at her sides and to protect her. Is that clear?" It was a question, but there was only one acceptable answer. "Yes."

Lady Jonella Cerwyn sat at the head of the table, and to her right, Arya sat with many people talking to her at once. Jon reached for Thonas's shoulder and placed him in back of Arya and to her left. For Gendry, he did the same to her right. Where they stood was their place in all of this, and it finally sunk in after watching several servants and most of the noblewomen leave the Great Hall that this was why she had to knight them. This was the only way they could be privy to the conversation.

"You know that Bolton bastard is waiting for you in Winterfell. You go there and your life is forfeit!" the lord with the tattered fur yelled at her, but there was no reaction from Arya, not even a hint of anger. "Like all bastards, legitimized or not, he has no honor. None!" he spat and pounded his fist onto the table as his gaze flicked toward Jon. But they were standing so close, he could have been looking at Gendry.

It happened so quickly no one was prepared for it. Arya scrambled across the table and snatched the man by the collar with Needle at his neck. The Great Hall went silent in an instant and all eyes were on Arya, particularly Needle gripped tightly in her hand. "I'll concede that the Bolton bastard is just as you've said, but if you," she paused and spoke more forcefully with her next words, "or any one of you ever speak of other bastards as such, I will see you outside the bounds of Cerwyn and cut out your tongue. Do we understand each other?"

Behind him, Gendry heard Jon's soft plea, "Arya."

The man didn't shrink from her attack. In fact, he eyed her carefully with his one good eye then nodded. As soon as she released him, Gendry felt the entire room relax as though everyone had been holding their breath the whole time.

"Perhaps you're too wild, even for the north, Lady," said a stocky woman covered in furs. "Do you plan to do to us what you've done with the Freys?"

Arya was already back in her seat returning Needle in its place by the time the woman could finish her sentence. At that, she quirked a brow at the woman, both sizing each other with equal measure while others around them began to look on nervously.

"Do you believe they didn't deserve their fate?" she asked and the woman's eyes softened considerably.

"If that was all it was, then we are in agreement. They deserved their fate."

"What else would it be?"

The woman seemed reluctant to answer, being put on the spot as she was. Finally, she responded with, "To destroy an entire house reeks of ambition, eyes toward the Iron Throne. Westeros is finally at peace and the north can't afford another war."

"All I ask of you, all of you, is to help me restore my house and my family's name," Arya said to all of the lords and ladies, looking each one in the eyes. "Who here will help me?"

Shockingly, the first person to slap their hand on the table with their support was the very man Arya attacked moments ago. "The Umbers are with you, woman! Of those we can scrounge, anyway."

Following him was the woman wrapped in leather and furs, her very large and almost wholly exposed bosom heaved with new excitement. "House Mormont is with you!"

One by one, the lords sitting at the table gave their support except for the Lady Cerwyn. She sat quietly, and it was clear on her face how uncomfortable all of this made her. "I fear for my house," she said sheepishly to the eyes awaiting her allegiance. "I have no man to help protect me here."

The Mormont woman made a snorting sound, making it obvious what she thought of the lady's fear.

Arya seemed to understand the woman's apprehension as she gently reached for her hand. At first, the lady's hand flinched from Arya's reach, but then allowed for her touch. "You've done so much for us as it is, Lady Jonella. Hosting us here has put enough strain and danger upon your home. Stay as neutral as you can until all is done." The warm smile from Arya spread to the lady and that was the end of it.

The conversation flowed from one topic to the next of Northern affairs that were known, heard of, or completely unknown to Gendry. Some were more heated than others, but it wasn't until one man said something that made all ears perk and all tongues stop in mid wag. "You need to find yourself a lord husband and quick, My Lady."

All eyes were on him except for Arya's. This was the moment Gendry dreaded. This was when the parade of suitors would begin, and it was the first step in losing her. The room suddenly felt unbearably hot and unsteady until Thonas patted him on his back reassuringly, bringing him back to what he was supposed to do: stand proudly at Arya's side as her highest servant...yet, still a servant.

"What the hells, I'll make the first offer," the Umber man pounded the table.

Gendry shuddered while everyone else laughed. Although no one took the man's proposal seriously, the man was practically old enough to be her grandfather and then some, which lord's proposal would they take seriously?

Arya forced a smile. To others, it might have even seemed genuine, but Gendry could tell that it wasn't. "Now, now. There's time for that later!" she said to them all in such a jovial, carefree manner, Gendry almost believed she was as at ease as she wanted those around her to believe. "For now, I would rather rebuild Winterfell."

"Wise choice," the Mormont woman agreed. "Keep them dangling until all the men in the north do their part to help you."

The men around them grumbled, but one by one they agreed with the Mormont woman. And with that, Gendry's chest sucked in air that he couldn't manage to breathe only moments before. She would have to choose, but she didn't have to choose at that moment.

"So tell us, is the Imp to be trusted?" asked another man at the far end of the table. "I still chafe at the very thought of a southron lord, a Lannister worst of all, as Warden of the North even if my alternative is Ramsay fucking Bolton." Gendry had heard of the title before, but didn't fully understand the responsibility or position it held. One thing was clear, he was not to become the Warden of the North, and that was a relief.

The people around them began to chatter while nodding their heads in agreement until the volume was so great, one voice was hard to pluck out of the many. It wasn't until Arya started to speak that they quieted.

"He did tell me he was named Warden of the North when my sister returned to him as his lady wife, but he hasn't given me reason to not trust him. Have you not noticed how he has remained silent in your affairs?" she asked while taking the time to look each noble man and woman in the eyes. "He understands fully the damage his family has caused the north and has no desire to possibly cause more, no matter how good his intentions might be."

"Well, I think it's agreed that we won't discuss it further until Winterfell is rebuilt, but I for one will feel more at ease when you are married to a good northern lord. Someone worthy of the mantle! Then get you wedded and bedded and give the North a male heir to settle things once and for all," another lord said, having all the other lords and ladies nodding enthusiastically in agreement again.

They wouldn't let this go. Gendry realized they would never let it go until she did.

* * *

_I couldn't help using Gendry's knighting "ceremony" from the book as a template of sorts, especially the words. I figured it was a good fit since, in the show, Dondarrion probably won't get the chance to knight Gendry after their unpleasant parting._


	20. For Her Honor

_As always, I want to take the time to thank all of you Reviewers, "Favoriters," and Followers out there! __Athough, please keep in mind that I can't answer questions if asked anonymously or if you have PMs turned off._  


* * *

Talk of the futures of Winterfell and the North waned, giving way to more livelier conversation of rumors and gossip. Servants reentered, and some left the table to mill about the Great Hall. Arya hadn't had time to stand; so many of the lords had come to her to start or join conversation, obviously trying to catch her eye. They had agreed that no one would speak of marriage until after Winterfell was rebuilt, but no one said anything about wooing her until then.

A servant offered Gendry a drink of wine, and he absentmindedly took it from her, sipping as his eyes were locked on the men smiling widely and eying her figure and offering to be of service in one form or another. He didn't notice how the serving woman arched her back to prominently display her ample bosom within his view, or the way her eyes drank in his entire form as she watched him watching Arya.

When it became clear that his attention couldn't be persuaded her way, she took the other goblet full of wine in her hand and moved on to the other newly knighted man in the room who happened to be on his way to Gendry's side. His friend's arm hooked around Gendry's shoulders and pulled him a few steps away from the gathering around Arya. "Snow tells us we can leave her be. That it's time to relax and learn the North."

The man took the goblet from the serving woman with his free hand, and his eyes wandered over the woman's bosom appreciatively. "And I intend to learn _every_ part of the North," he said then leaned in to Gendry, speaking with a softer tone, "and I could get used to this!"

Gendry remained silent.

"They have a decent practice area. Want me to drop you on your arse some to get your mind off of the Lady Assassin?" Thonas whispered.

A small side-grin formed on Gendry's face as he, for the first time, looked away from Arya and her suitors. "I remember you ended a little worse for wear the last time we sparred."

The man beside him laughed. "The one day doesn't count!"

Gendry had almost accepted Thonas's offer until he noticed Jon bend to whisper in Arya's ear. She nodded, said something to the men around her, then followed Jon out of the Great Hall. The last time someone slipped Arya out of a room, things between them grew tense for reasons Gendry still wished he knew but could only guess had to do with his bastardy. Before he could register what he was doing, he quietly released himself from Thonas's hold to leave the Great Hall as well. He heard Thonas warn him not to go, but it didn't fully register in his mind.

By the time he navigated his way through the people and out of the Great Hall and the Keep, he saw the two walking into the enclosed wooded area. He'd heard of a godswood before, but had never been in one. The extent of his knowledge about them was that they were sacred places for those who worshiped the Old Gods. The entrance was nothing more than a gap between two stone walls no taller than his knees, and Gendry couldn't bring himself to cross its threshold. He remembered the lessons of the septas in his youth well, so much so that he began to rub at the back of his hands from the memory. Sacred places were for sacred reasons: worshiping, honoring the dead, and so on. Following a woman he could never have wasn't a sacred reason.

There was no sign of Arya and Jon in the trees, and the cold started to seep into his bones. It felt refreshing at first, but then crept under his skin and into his bones the longer he stayed exposed, and even in his warm, new clothes, they were only slightly warmer than his old clothes with a cloak. The gusts of wind didn't help, only making it seem colder.

He turned to leave the border of the godswood and back to the Keep when he heard something in the wind. It was faint, but he thought it was his name. It whispered again, "Gendry," and it came from the godswood. It didn't sound like Arya or Jon. The hairs on the back of his arms stood on end as he wondered for a heartbeat if the Old Gods were speaking to him directly.

"Gendry," the whispers continued, and he was so curious, he crossed the threshold hesitantly and followed them. Natural sounds went silent in the woods around him as though helping him follow the soft sound of his name. Turning left here, turning right there, he started to hear another voice say his name. This time, it wasn't a whisper, and this time he recognized the voice.

"Gendry's a friend."

"A friend, Arya?" Gendry heard Jon respond, unconvinced.

He saw them in a thicket of trees to his right. Jon sat on the ground resting his back on a tree, and opposite him Arya slumped into the crook of a tree trunk and it's roots, her knees bent in a very unladylike fashion with her gown draped over her legs.

And to his left was a strange tree with a face carved into it. The sap bled red and gave him an uneasy feeling. He'd heard of these trees before, of weirwoods, but seeing one was very different from hearing about it.

"What would you have me say?"

"He would follow you through the Seven Hells and back. I can see it in the way he looks at you. And you'd repay him by getting him killed? " Jon shook his head as though he couldn't believe his own words. "He's a smith? Well then let him find a quiet smithy and a quiet life."

"And a quiet woman?" she asked with her eyebrow cocked and her temper flaring in her voice. "I have my reasons for what I do, brother," she added as she folded her arms across her chest under her cloak.

"And what are those reasons, Arya?"

Arya's lips parted and then opened fully as though she were going to say something, but there was no sound. Gendry pushed himself closer to the tree he'd been hiding behind, but Arya closed her mouth and remained silent.

"Gendry is important to me, and he will be important to Winterfell. You'll see, brother," was all she said after that.

Jon shifted in his cloak, and the slight movement only reminded Gendry of how cold he'd become. There was parchment pulled from the tie of his breeches, and Jon passed it to Arya. "Here's the letter from Tyrion you expected. I never let the maester out of my sight until it arrived. All but slept in his bed to be sure no one else would have it."

She took the rolled parchment, broke the seal and began to read it quickly. It only took her moments before she rolled it back up and stuffed it deep in her bosom.

"So why aren't you at Castle Black? You were Lord Commander last I'd heard," Arya asked him.

He nodded then his eyes shot upward as though he saw something in the sky. Gendry followed his line of sight and saw nothing. His jaw clenched and all of his muscles seemed to tense simultaneously. "That ended with my death."

"Your death? You're right here!" she argued. She seemed offended that he would even say something so laughable, and Gendry even had to suppress a chuckle. Any amusement they had ended when he asked, "Have you heard what happened with your mother? Have you seen her?"

Jon didn't wait for her answer; he simply pulled back his cloak and lifted his tunic, revealing stab wounds covering the entire middle of his body. As many as there were and as deep as they seemed to be, the man, by all rights, should have been dead. Arya's breath caught in her chest and her reply was weak and childlike as though dreading what his next words to her would be, "Yes, I've heard, but I haven't seen her. I've seen it done on another, though."

"Melisandre did the same. She saw the handiwork of a red priest among the Brotherhood and decided to try on me. I died, and so ended my Watch. But unlike most, I came back."

Arya wiped her eyes with the back of her hand roughly and sniffed. From Gendry's vantage, he couldn't see her face, but when the back of her hand rubbed at her eye again and then the other, he knew she was losing a battle with her tears.

Gendry suddenly felt how private the moment was and how intrusive he'd been. Brother and sister were finally reunited after so many years, having to discuss all of the good and bad that's passed through their lives, and he wouldn't let them be, let her be. He turned and retraced his steps back to the edge of the godswood and headed for the Keep.

Inside, Thonas welcomed him with a hearty slap to his back and introduced him to some of the noblemen Thonas had already befriended. The Umber man was among them—Thonas said his name was Mors—and Gendry had to admit to himself that the man wasn't bad company when he wasn't proposing marriage to Arya.

* * *

The smell of the evening meal being prepared in the kitchens wafted into the Great Hall and Gendry's stomach began to rumble, distracting him from his game with the men around him. Thonas and Mors took it upon themselves to teach Gendry how to play; Thonas far more eager since he had tried several times before with a very unwilling and unresponsive Gendry in Flea Bottom.

And as they thought it best, he was learning it the hard way. Having already sloshed through six cups of ale—it could have been twenty with his count lost—since his return from the godswood, the faces of the men were starting to blur and his chair was starting to wobble. It didn't matter because the men around him laughed heartily as they played another round.

Gendry slammed his cup down on the table, and for the first time he was the first to do it. Mors looked around the table with his good eye and bellowed a hearty laugh. Thonas laughed as well, but also wheezed out, "There has to be a first time for everything!"

Suddenly, the entire table descended into a fit of laughter that forced Gendry to grin. His grin widened into a full smile, and before he knew it, he was laughing with them. And as the drink dulled his senses and his thoughts grew fuzzy, he had to admit that he was beginning to like these Northern noblemen.

It also helped that his mind was too foggy to think about Arya. That was the beauty of drinking: the mind dulled to where he could only have one thought in his head at a time, and at this time, he was surrounded by several Thonas-like men hell-bent on having the time of their lives. As though to prove his point, Thonas grabbed the serving woman from earlier as she passed by, and pulled her down to his lap. She chuckled and welcomed his attention with a warm smile.

One of the men at the table, tongue far too loose from far too much ale and wine, chuckled and muttered, "I'd like to have Lady Stark across my lap…or in my bed. Did you see the curve of her—"

The man was of noble birth, but Gendry couldn't remember his name. At the moment, he didn't want to remember his name. All he could do was stare at him and wish him dead. Gendry's hands felt tight and ached, and he heard a buzzing in his ears that he could only guess was the result of his blood rushing to them. A small nudge at his elbow distracted him from his focus on the man, and he looked to his side to see Thonas eying him nervously. He looked down to suddenly see his shortsword in one hand and his warhammer in the other, both gripped so tightly that his knuckles were starting to whiten.

Around him, men were quiet and staring at him warily, and down the small flight of steps was the wooden table tipped on it's side. It was a very long, heavy table. How did it get moved and tipped?

"What's going on here?" he heard Arya ask from behind him, and he twisted his body to see her and Jon standing by the entrance of the Great Hall.

"Your castellan's gone mad!" the man said, and Gendry returned his focus to him. Only able to focus on one thought at a time, this time it was shame that flooded him. Had he embarrassed her as castellan already?

"You made a lewd remark about his Liege Lady, and right in front of him, you idiot," Mors grumbled, then his gaze slid to Gendry and gave him a nod. "No one can fault him for defending her honor."

"Ser Thonas," Arya said softly as he heard her stepping closer behind him, "please take Ser Gendry to his chambers. I believe he's well in his cups and needs to sleep it off. When he's of his own mind again, tell him my honor thanks him."

He turned back to straighten his body and his head dipped low. Gendry could barely bring himself to look up from his shoes, and it was only when chuckles spread around him he did. The first thing he noticed was that the men around him were no longer tense and the man that was his focus now carried the look of shame. Thonas nudged him on the shoulder to get him to move toward the corridor that would lead to his room.

"And as for you, Ser Artos…" was all that Gendry heard from Arya before they left the Great Hall.

* * *

_For the longest time these scenes were a bit problematic. They just didn't "pop" for me, but I think expanding it helped quite a bit. I expanded it so much that I had to split it again. The original outline didn't have this scene with Gendry and the noblemen, but I think it works, especially as a transition between the previous chapter and the next chapter.  
_


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